Welcome to the Masquerade
by Captain Zombie
Summary: We all wear masks - only hers is of skin and bone. Eight years after the end of "Electricity", Jink's back on another whirl-wind adventure filled with music-based fun to save the world - and her sanity. T for the right reasons.
1. Welcome to the Masquerade

**OH MY GOD I'M ALIVE. YOU MAY NOT REMEMBER ME . . . yes you do! Okay, so I decided to restart this whole thing. Sorry if you were in love with the last one, but I kept looking at it and thinking I could do better. So, this one is going to keep the SAME GENERAL storyline, but I'm tweaking it a _wee_ bit. So read and enjoy. and REVIEW if you love it.**

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Chapter 1: Welcome To The Masquerade

_We've got the fire, who's got the matches?  
Take a look around at the sea of masks  
Come one, come all, welcome to the grand ball  
Where the strong run for cover and the weak stand tall._  
~Thousand Foot Krutch

* * *

Guys, you would not believe what's happened to me - to _us_ - in the past eight years. I barely believe it myself, and I _lived_ through it. Not that it's something I'm all too proud of. But hey, the present's no place for regrets, huh?

So where did I leave you all off at? Oh yes, my marvelous spike in health. Ha, ha, ha . . . oh man, at the time I _made_ the video, my life was going to hell. Proverbial hell in a hand-basket.

You wanna know what was happening? Daimio was leaving. No good-byes, no packing up and giving his two-week notice, _nothing_. The man basically walked out and and we haven't seen 'im sense. He just . . . disappeared. Gone. _How_ he could leave without someone seeing him or stopping him was beyond me, but it happened.

When I found out - well, actually, when _Manning_ found out that I found out - you know what those punks did? They stuck me back on fucking suicide watch. Yeah! Ain't that wrong?

But probably not misplaced. Four days later, I had an emotional breakdown. I'm not all too sure what the hell went on, and I heard from different sources what had happened. Some said I blew and fried the BPRD's lighting system. Some said I seized and shocked anyone within a five-foot radius. All I know is that one minute I'm eating breakfast, and the next thing I know, I'm back in the Vault.

The fucking _Vault_, people.

My progress back to full speed was slow; time-consuming. I had to sit in that room for a fucking _year_ before they deemed me safe enough to be around people who weren't in rubber jump-suits. Don't believe I was that insane? Anyone here at the Bureau can vouch for it - I was grade-A bone fide coocoo for Cocoa Puffs.

I was seventeen, about to turn eighteen, when they finally let me go. It had all seemed so awing after a year in a metal room. The first thing I did?

I quit. Not quit-quit, like Hellboy quit, but Jink quit. I got a military grant to go to school in any city I wanted to. Any college of my choice.

Which is how I eneded up in the biggest city of Nebraska, at UNO, in my own (small) apartment, sitting in my own pool of misery and as drunk as a skunk.

You heard me. I was _drunk_. Tipsy. Smashed. Pissed. Wasted. Completely F) All of the above. I had a military badge that I fudged a little on my laptop so it said I was 21 (don't look at me like that, I fixed it when I actually turned twenty-two). And then I wasted twenty bucks on a case of beer. Forget school - I was doing pretty good - but memories had a hard time of letting go. I was totally sprawled out on my couch, with my eyes closed, mumbling under my breath.

Let's take a good, hard look at my apartment, shall we? My living room was half the size of my toom at the BPRD, with a couch, a recliner (I called it my gaming chair 'cuz I usually sat in it when I gamed), a small TV in the corner, and a small coffee table covered in books and comics.

Through the huge archway (which could have been a wall with a door, but the contractors got lazy, I guess) my small kitchen seemed to stare dejectedly at me. Through a hallway that started on the opposite wall, there were three doors: a bathroom, a closet, and my bedroom, which contained little more than a futon bed, a small end table, a dresser for my mundie clothes, and the closet.

The closet was my shrine. On the inside, I had all my photos taped up, and I had my BPRD vest and uniform in it, hanging dust-free as if it were just _aching_ to be put back on.

That was what my life was condensed to, now. A closet. All my memories, all my pain, all my heartache had to be shoved into a closet with a new lock and key atop the old one. There was no way in hell I could relate to someone what I had been through; no way. No one would believe me. And if I have to spend another _milisecond_ locked up in a room, I'm going to kill myself. I'm serious - I know three different ways to do it with my bare hands.

So, as I was saying, I was sitting near-passed-out on my couch when my doorbell rang one September night. I had to stumble to get up and actually get to the door, but I managed to do so without sustaining any major injuries.

I wrenched open the door, eyes half-closed, and snarled, "_What?_"menacingly. Yeah, another thing you should know - I get pissed pretty easily when I'm drunk.

Tom Manning was standing in the doorway of my apartment, looking all spif-an-span in his business suit. It was safe to say that all the malice I felt towards him had waned a couple years back, but every now and again it comes back with a vengeance. I didn't know if today would be like that, but I had prepare myself.

"Jink, we need to ta-," he cut himself off, "Um . . . are you _drunk?"_

"Way ta go, Cap'n Obvious," I slurred, leaning up against the door. My head was starting to swim. I blinked a couple times to clear my vision.

He sighed, walking into the room and taking a seat on the couch. "As I was saying," he started again, "We need to talk."

"'Bout what?" I asked. "_I_ don't need to talk." I stumbled back across the room and practically fell into the chair.

He stared at me for a moment. "Jink, how long has it been?" he asked suddenly.

"Since _when?"_

"Since Ben Daimio left."

Oh dear Lord. Just hearing his name seemed to tear a hole in my chest. I could feel my throat closing, and I sighed and closed my eyes in a hope that I wouldn't cry. When I finally spoke, it was wavery and trembly: "Eight years."

"Exactly," he said. "He's _gone,_ Jink. And sitting here, drinking away your liver, isn't going to bring him back!"

"Who sai' I'm drinkin' 'cause of _that?"_ I asked, slurring a little more. "Maybe I'm drinkin' to just _drink."_

"Well, then, I guess you won't object to coming back to the BPRD," he shrugged.

I knew it. I fucking _knew_ it. "_Fuck_ no," I growled. I crossed my arms. "Never."

"Jink, I hate to tell you this, but . . ." he sighed and was quiet for a moment before continuing. "Greg's missing."

Some part of me was like, "Oh no! Not Greg too!" But the bigger part of me was drunk and didn't give a flying fuck.

I shrugged. "Ya know what? Bully for him!" I uncrossed my arms and sighed. "He probably got out when he could like Ben 'n Hellboy, hm?"

Manning couldn't help but gape at me. "What the hell _happened_ to you?" he demanded. "Greg was your _best friend."_

"Life happened, Tom. And life's a whore."


	2. The Priest and the Matador

**ANOTHER CHAPTER? Yeah, I'm posting a second chapter. Be happy and review. **

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Chapter 2: The Priest and the Matador

_Father, you're too late.  
My faith is weak.  
So won't you save your  
Half-hearted speech?_  
~Senses Fail

* * *

"_**Hey! Hey BITCH! Pick up the goddamn phone, you fucking retard!"**_

Well, THIS was fantastic. That was my government issue cellphone – one of those fancy ones, because apparently they're the best. Psh. As if.

But ANYWAYS, Manning's eyes bugged out of his skull when he heard it. I just sighed, pulled it out of my pocket, and replied, "City mourgue, you stab 'em, we slab 'em." Yep, that's how I usually answer the phone.

"Hey, homie, we're headin' up to your crib! We cool?" I knew who that was, My favorite camo-wearing teenage girl.

"Jessi, don't try to talk gangsta. It doesn't suit you – trust me," I sighed. "And no, we're not cool. Don't come over."

"TOO LATE!" someone said from the background.

"I'm sitting on my couch in the nude," I tried. "You _really_ wanna see that?"

"I don't care," I could hear her casual shrug over the phone. "We're still coming over."

I was beat – seriously, when these girls wanted to do something, there was no stopping them. "Fine. Just gimme ten minutes." I hung up the phone and turned to Manning. "Listen up," I stated, "I'll come back-,"

"Excellent!" he interjected, moving to stand up.

"Wait!" I exclaimed. "I ain't through! Cop a squat and siddown."

He sat back down, eyes now narrowed in suspician.

"I'll come back," I said again, "On a few conditions. One, I ain't going back into the Vault. You pull that shit again, I'll be forced to use . . . _drastic_ . . . measures. Two, I don't want any psychiatrists. I'm _sick_ of you people thinking you can "cure me" with words and therapy. And three . . ." I smiled as I said this, "I want you to reinstate my bank account."

Let me point something out real fast. As a long-time member of the BPRD, I get something that's almost like a trust fund – a bank account filled with money I can use to getstuff to keep me occupied while in the work palce. For example, an iPod, or music, or movies . . . you catch my drift. But since I haven't exactly _been_ at the Bureau, they killed off my bank account, making me use slightly illegal means to get my music fix.

"Fine," he agreed, and I let him get up this time. "Let's go."

"Psha, I ain't goin' _now,"_ I scoffed. "_You_ need to be gone in the next five minutes. I'll leave tomorrow."

"Why can't you leave now?" he asked simply.

"I have company coming over," I shrugged. "It'd be rude to leave without saying good-bye."

* * *

I met my new-found friends at a book store. One of them was cruising the anime section, one was checking out the drawing books, and the other was practically drooling over the collection of zombie novels they had in for Halloween.

I was actually trying to avoid those zombie books – thinking about them too much made me sad, depressed, and cranky – but the one girl there had run into me by accident. Her glasses flew off, my books fell out of my hands, and we landed in a tangled heap on the carpeted floor.

"_Fuck!"_ I had shouted. "Can't you watch where you're readin', kid?"

She didn't hear me – she had picked up one of the books I had picked out. "Seriously, _The Golden Compass?"_ she looked at me skeptically.

I had had a copy back at the Bureau, which I left behind. I never finished it, and now I wanted to. "I just want to see how it ends," I shrugged. "What's it to you?"

"Here," she rolled her eyes and dug into her bag before standing up and helping me up. "Read this."

I took the worn book from her hands. _Skulduggery Pleasant_. "The hell is this?" I asked.

"It's probably the greatest book with a talking skeleton _ever_," she grinned. "And there's none of those sparkely fairy vampires in it, either."

She had me hooked – the Twilight craze at the time was almost out of control. "Excellent," I grinned, and stuck out my hand. "The name's Jink," I introduced myself.

She took my hand with a surprisingly strong grip. "Jessi James, at your service," she grinned.

"Like the outlaw?"

"Only a million times _better. _I got comics."

She introduced me to her friends – a tall black chick named Rayne (whom we always joked was "the token black person" of the group), and a short, skinny, angular girl named Zora. Together, they were the only people who made me feel welcome in Nebraska.

So that's why, barely moments after Manning left, they just barged into my home. I didn't say anything – I was still drunk, you have to remember – but I at least managed to wave hi.

"Jink, are you fucking _drunk_ again?" Jessi sighed. She came over and just plopped herself in my lap. God, did she _always_ have to wear that jacket of hers? It was camo (of course), and was like an extra fifty dregrees on my legs.

"_Yes,"_ I groaned, "Now get that heater off my _legs_."

She stood up and sat on the floor next to my chair. Rayne and Zora already were sprawled on my couch and flipping through TV channels.

"Guys . . . I'm just wondering . . ." I trailed off, "But don't you have anything better to do on a Friday night than to harrass me?"

"Harrassing you _is_ our Friday night," Zora laughed. Then she and Rayne found _The Lion King_ on some kid's channel and started singing along.

Jessi just rolled her eyes. I could always sense that she was sort of the odd man out, so I usually hung out with her the most.

"Jeeessssssssiii . . . ." I drew out her name, "The liiiiiight . . . it caaaaaaaaalllllls to yooooouuu . . . ."

She grinned and rolled her eyes again. She did that so much – I thought she was going to roll her eyes right out of her head. "Jink, what the hell're you doing?" she asked.

"Trying to make you smile," I shrugged, feigning a sad face.

"Aw, you're so sweet when you're drunk," she giggled a little.

"Get a good dose of it now – no one's seeing this for a while."

* * *

I woke up and jolted out of my chair. It had felt like all the muscles on the left side of my head contracted at once – trust me, it was a crazy-ass weird feeling. I rubbed the side of my head, trying to figure out how I even could _move_ those muscles. College-level anatomy told me that I probably could do it with a lot of practice, but who gave a fuck about that at three in the morning?

The three girls were sleeping on my couch in a pile of sweaty bodies and bottles of cream soda. That was all theirs. My Dr. Pepper was in the fridge.

I walked over to the sink and leaned against it, resting my forearms on the edge. I always did this when I woke up in the morning. I just sort of stood there and thought random thoughts.

I looked up a little, and sighed. The previous owner of the apartment had left a cross hanging above the sink. It was nothing elaborate – just this little wood cross on a piece of twine. I pulled it off of the wall and squeezed it in my hand. I wanted to feel it burn in my palm; I wanted some sign that something up there existed, cared. Something other than that fucking bitch Elektra.

But all I felt was the wood splintering in my grip. I opened my hand and let the tiny wooden cross fall out of my hand and into the sink.

Faith was a total crock. On one hand, I had a deity that gifted me with powers, has promised me a good place in the afterlife, and is (mostly) just. And I totally hated her guts. On the other, I had a deity whom I wasn't even sure existed, won't let you go to _his_ place when you die unless you're a 110% sure about his presence, and was known to send down flood because he didn't like how things were going. Yet, I felt that people who knew him had a better deal than I did.

Which put me in a place of near atheism. I didn't go either way, and I totally didn't give a damn. But of course, that's what was going to ruin me in the end – I could feel it.

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**p.s. - my friend has the ringtone mentioned . . . XD**


	3. Pictures on the Wall

**Heeeeey everybody! Ain't I nice? Well, here's chapter three. Big props to meh homeslice, RubyDracoGirl, for reviewing - AND COOKIES. The rest of you, review! Puh-leeeeeez?**

**And in case you didn't know, I'm sort of going off of the BPRD: HoE universe . . . YEAH!**

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Chapter 3: Pictures on the Wall

_(Why don't you)  
Tear my pictures off your wall  
You don't deserve me lookin' at you anymore.  
I lay dying, drained from tryin'  
Left with my heart in pieces on the floor.  
(Like anytime before)  
_~Fall From Grace

* * *

Morning was coming, and there was so much I still had to do. I left the kitchen and went to my bedroom. It was nearly spotless, but then again, I didn't have a lot of stuff to toss onto the floor. I found my old suit case and tossed all my clothes in it, and then my laptop, and Jareth. Yeah, I still had 'im. I couldn't leave him behind.

This left my closet. I opened the doors silently, with reverence. My uniform. I ran my hand over the material lovingly. I hadn't worn it in so long.

I heaved a sigh. First things first - I carefully pulled off all my pictures I had taped up and put them in the dusty album that sat on the floor. I was careful with every movement I made and every picture I handled. Some were extremely old, and I didn't want them ruined.

Finally, my uniform. I took it off of the hanger . . . and put it on. It was just like I remembered it. The black long-sleeved shirt with the Bureau's initials and symbol on the back was still long, and the sleeves still fell to just where my thumbs started. The belt still had a good weight, with plenty of compartments for random junk. The vest was totally made to complete the outfit. Made of material fifty times stronger than Kevlar, it had my name on the back, along with the same stuff my shirt had.

God, I missed this. I missed the smell, I missed the feeling of wearing it, I missed cracking heads and taking names . . . But of course, I would never admit that to Manning.

I sat down on the floor and wrapped my arms around my raised knees. I don't know why Manning suddenly wanted my help. I haven't heard word one from him since I left. I sent them the obligatory yearly letter, letting them know how school was doing (I actually had to take some high school classes first, in order to get into college, but that's beside the point), but I heard _nothing_ from them.

But I didn't care. I'd go. These guys were my family; I'd _kill_ for them. Yeah, they've done me wrong in the past, but the past's the past. Hakuna Matata, baby - no worries. That's the one thing I think Manning actually gets - I'd eventually rise to the occasion and help out if they need me.

So I sat in that assumed position until I could see the sun through the window. I eventually heaved myself up off the floor and dragged my backpack out of my room and into the living room.

I came just in times - as I did, there was a timid knock on the door. I opened it silently - Manning again.

"You ready to go?" he asked, and motioned to the black Lincoln idling on the curb. "Your ride is waiting."

"Just another couple minutes," I said. "I got some other stuff to grab."

In the kitchen, I grabbed two pill bottles - one with aspirin, and one with my schizo meds. Yeah, I'm still takin' them. Otherwise, well, I wouldn't be here right now.

For a final act, I walked over to the sleeping bodies on the couch. I shook Jessi awake, and she jolted up in surprise.

"Wha . . . ?" she demanded sleepily.

"I'm leaving," I stated simply, and set my apartment keys on the coffee table. "Watch my place. Don't let Rayne blow up my toilet . . . again."

She gave a curt nod, and let herself fall back down. I sighed, picked up my backpack, and left.

I had to turn and take one last look before I followed Manning to the car. I loved that apartment. I was gonna miss it. And who knows when I was going to see it again?

I just took a deep breath, and got into the car. I couldn't help but think, _Welcome to the first day of the rest of your life_.

* * *

The place hadn't changed much since I had last been there. The place was still fucking cold, the people were still fucking snooty, and I still felt like I was home.

Manning made me follow him in, instead of just letting me roam free. "We're a little short-staffed, so you'll have to pull doubles on monitor duty," he informed me, "Which you're scheduled to do in about four hours."

"Wait a second," I said hesitantly, "Aren't I here to look for Greg?"

"Yeeeesssssss . . . he drawled, "But we also need help here, _too,_ Jink." He gave a curt nod and left me standing, staring at him in complete surprise.

God, he can be such a slippery bastard, can't he?

I sighed, shook my head, and turned to walk towards my old room.

"Jink?"

I turned, and smiled like the goof I was. "Abe!" I said excitedly. I walked up to him and threw my arms around him in a lazy hug. He sort of stiffened and waited for me to let him go; he was never the hug guy. "How's it been, man? Missed me?"

"You could say that," he sighed, and I let him go. God, he was still a killjoy. But hey, I still loved the guy like a brother.

"How's everyone else?" I asked.

He shifted a little. Great - that means something bad happened. "What?" I heaved a sigh and crossed my arms. "What happened _now?"_

"You . . . you will probably want to talk to Kate about it," he stated, and walked off before saying anything else.

Oh dear Lord . . . everything's going down the tube already, and I just _got_ here. So I just grabbed my bag and beat a path to my old room.

My room . . . oh man, it hasn't changed a bit. Sure, it got a little dusty, but it still looked the same. My bed still sat in the corner, all my books and DVD's were still on their respective shelves. The only thing missing were my pictures, but those were in my photo album.

I ditched my stuff and left the room - I'd be back, but there's some stuff I had to do.

* * *

"Hey there, Ms. Corrigan," I grinned as I walked up behind her, "Whatcha got for meh?"

She whirled around, and a huge grin nearly split her face. "_Jink!"_ she said excitedly.

"_Kate!"_ I replied, and glomped her. She actually hugged back ('cuz she's cool like that), and for a moment I felt like I never left. I finally pulled away and said, "So how's everyone doin' 'round here? Where' Johann? Liz?"

"Johann's around here somewhere," she shrugged, "He always is. Liz . . ." She looked a little uncomfortable. "We sort of . . . misplaced her."

"So she's gone too?" I dead-panned. "God, is _everyone_ around here running away?" I let my face fall into my hands. "_Gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaawwwd . . . ."_

Kate just patted me on the shoulder. "Well, people come and go," she explained.

"Ms. Corrig-, oh, sorry, are you busy?" A tallish black guy with glasses turned the corner, and cut himself off when he saw us.

I looked at him him with narrowed eyes. "Who the hell're you?" I demanded.

"Jink, this is Agent Devon," Kate introduced. "He's been with us for a couple years now." She turned to Devon. "Jink was a ward of the BPRD, and was with us for quite a number of years. She's been at school for the past couple years."

He stuck out his hand in a welcome gesture, but I just stared at him until he dropped it in a dejected way.

"So . . . what does she do?" he asked Kate. She looked at me expectantly.

I just shrugged and smiled. "He'll see, Kate," I laughed a little. "He'll see it eventually - _everyone_ does."

* * *

I sat on the floor of my room in pajama pants and an old tank top. All of the old clothes I left behind still fit, but they smelled a little musty. Oh well.

I had my photo album out, and I was just randomly flipping through it. Every couple of pages, I would pull one out (c-a-r-e-f-u-l-l-y) and reach up to pin it to the wall. I wanted at least one of everyone.

Abe . . . Kate . . . Liz . . . Johann . . . Manning (why? I dunno.) . . . Hellboy . . . . Roger . . . . Hellboy . . . Liz . . . Roger . . . Kate . . . . . Roger . . . . . . . .

It struck me, and it ached like a knife in my chest: there was _one person_ I didn't have a picture of: Daimio.

God, how unfair is that?

I couldn't help it - it hurt too much. My face crumpled, and a few tears started to fall. They stung a little, but that pain was so miniscule compared to the ache in my chest.

There was a knock at my door, but I didn't reply; I was going full-on with the tears and such. God, I'm such a fucking pansy. I just curled into a ball and pretended I wasn't home. I was so wrapped up in my own misery, I barely registered the door opening.

"Jink? What _happened?"_

"Just go away, Abe!" I snapped. "Lemme alone!" I put my face back in my hands and ignored him.

Well, he returned the favor by ignoring me and waltzing into my room. I watched him from between my fingers: he looked at the pictures on the wall and the discarded photo album. He peered at me, silently asking for an explanation.

I sighed, and let my hands fall from my face. "It's not fair," I said thickly. "I have _thousands_ of photos . . . but none of _him."_ Just saying it out loud made me want to cry more (another testament to my pansy-ness).

He didn't say anything, but yet he surprised me: he sat down on my bed and lay a hand on my shoulder. Everything said with a simple gesture.

And I probably surprised him more by turning, hugging his legs, and crying into his pants. Alas! The transformation complete! I am NOW a crybaby!

But I don't deny that it felt _good_ to get it all out.


	4. Waiting For The End

**OKay, guys, bad news: I can no longer updates from school, which I've been doing usually. SO I'm doiing two things: I'm updating once a week from home, and I started a blog for it as well:**

**www . welcome - to - the - masquerade - . blogspot . com (you know the drill - remove the spaces)**

**But I give you . . . THE FOURTH CHAPTER! REVIEW!**

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Chapter 4: Waiting For The End

_Sitting in an empty room, trying to forget the past . . .  
This was never meant to last . . . .  
I wish it wasn't sooo . . . . .  
I know what it takes to move on, I know how it feels to lie.  
All I want to do is trade this life for something new,  
holding on to what I haven't got . . .  
_~Linkin Park

* * *

I almost forgot about monitor duty! Yikes! I rand down different hallways, cutting sharp corners and dodging people when nessecery. I slig-shot into the room right before I was supposed to, barely missing being late.

Abe had explained to me that now the BPRD was backed by the UN, so now we have to look at every step backwards and every shadow made in the world that they want us to. So that's what the huge monitor room and monitor duty were for; it was our way to keep an eye on everything.

So it was just a giant room covered with monitors. There was a seat (the one I sat in), surrounded by a half-circle control panel. I was supposed to be here for almost twelve hours straight. Ha ha - I was suckered into coming back in by that fucking creep.

I reclined in my chair and let myself drift. My eyes hurt from crying, and I was still in my p.j.'s. I felt so bad for unloading on Abe like that - he didn't deserve that from me. I was supposed to be strong; I was supposed to be better than that. But no, I had to weep and cry over someone who's been gone for eight years, and didn't really like me that much to be truthfully honest.

Me, however . . . my feelings for him have changed. They weren't so "OMG-I-TOTALLY-HATE-YOUR-GUTS" anymore. No, they were more cordial than that.

_Something nicer, something more,_ I thought to myself. _Something . . . almost . . . . like love . . ._

Love? No way. Not a snowball's chance in hell. How can it? Please. He wouldn't even _look_ at a person like me. I was nothing but a joke and an embarrassment to him. I mean, seriously, for _serial_. I was probably on the bottom of his "could-be girlfriend" list, right after Kate and Liz. Oh jeez-

"Hi there."

I was shocked out of my reverie by Devon coming into the room. Shit - I hadn't been paying attention to the monitors. I straightened up and pretended that I had been paying attention the entire time. "Hey," I replied. "What's the deal?"

"Just coming to see what you were doing," he shrugged. He found a spare chair and brought it up beside mine and sat down.

I shrugged back in response. I was getting some bad vibes from this guy; I didn't like his face. He's almost like a politician: he had a helluva poker face.

"So . . . uh . . . where _were_ you at all this time?" he asked.

"Kate told you," I sighed. "I was at school. Majoring in creative writing. Minoring in biology."

"Why'd you leave in the first place?"

I almost smiled when I said, "Philosophical differences." I reclined in my chair. "How's the home front?"

"Abe's the antichrist," he said suddenly.

I did a double take and shouted "_WHAT?"_

"Yeah," he went on, "We got trapped underground by these weird orange monsters and the frogs-"

Uh-oh.

"-And then this guy with a flaming skull head said that-"

"_Wait,"_ I cut him off. "Flaming skull head? You don't mean the Black Flame, do you?"

"I-I think so," he said. "Why?"

"DAMMIT!" I jumped out of my chair and started pacing behind the control panel. "I THOUGHT I _FRIED_ HIS MONKEY ASS ALREADY!"

I walked a couple steps away; I was starting to spark (damn that too! I thought I had that under control!).

Devon just stared at me in terror. Yep, I was back on my game, scaring the (semi)new guy. "What's the big deal?"

"_The big deal?"_ I repeated. "_The big deal_ is that _it killed Roger_!" He stared blankly at me - oh day of days, he didn't know who Roger even _was!_ The _prick!_ "And I _fried_ his ass almost _ten fucking years ago!"_ I took a deep breath, and tried to calm myself down before sitting down at the control panel. "Go on," I ordered. "What happened?"

"Well, anyways," he continued, "This guy - the Black Flame - told us that Abe was some evolved form of the frogs, and that he was going to lead us to the end of the world."

I blinked slowly, staring at him with a blank expression. Then I laughed - like seriously, I laughed my ass off. "Dude, you know how many times we hear that here? "Oh, he's the Beast of the Apocalypse!" "Oh, he's the Antichrist!" God man, _no one takes it seriously!"_ I practically _giggled_. "Man, you ain't been around long, have ya, noob?"

He just shook his head sadly, like I was someone to be pitied. "You don't understand," he heaved this huge, heavy sigh. "You're too close to him-"

"Check it, Batman," I interrupted pointedly, "You probably don't know this, but this _whole_ organization was started with Hellboy, and this guy Trever Bruttenholm."

"What's that got to do with anything?" he asked slowly.

"Well, the Professor believed that a man was a man based by his character, not the circumstances of his birth, or his supposed destiny. It was what you did, not what you _are."_

Devon shook his head again.

"Damn you to hell, then," I said brightly. "Better leave, afore I _really_ open a can a whoop-ass."

He left, thank God, and I retreated back into my thoughts.

This guy - Devon - he didn't know shit. Whether he's been here for a year or five, he doesn't know jack _shit_ about this place. He should know by fucking now that you don't go around talking about that crap. Not only does it worry the noobs, it pisses off the veterans. Yeah, we _know_ that some people around here might kill us all. Hell, one of us almost _succeeded._ But that doesn't mean he gets to talk about it. In fact, he don't get to _mention_ it until he's been through it.

Memories are a funny thing, you know? No matter what you do, they're always there. And they always appear at the _worst_ of times.

I shook my head to clear it, and went back to staring at the monitors.

Five hours into it, I had a bad case of numb-ass. There was _nothing on._ Just a buncha wacked-out psychos who keep saying the US is being taken over by un-American monsters. They obviously mean the Bureau. There's pictures of Kate and Manning, and a small number of shots including Devon and Johann. There's a few clips of this giant monster thing down south (first time _I_'ve heard of it; I have to get out more).

But otherwise, it's like watching every news channel ever made. It's hell boring.

"What I would do for a drink," I moaned. "A Dr. Pepper, a Coke - gods and goddesses, I'd even go for a _beer_."

"I can't believe you're already old enough to drink."

I jumped a little at her voice, but relaxed immediately when Kate sat in the chair Devon had been in. "Yeah, Kate," I replied, "I've been able to do that for a couple years now."

"That's funny," she said, "Because according to your ID, you've been about to do it since about three months after you left."

"Jeez, Kate!" I scoffed, "It was just a beer! It's not like I didn't anything else illegal!"

_Well, I think so, at least,_ I thought to myself. _There was that party . . . that Mountain Dew. Oh, and those weird cupcakes . . . what __**happened**__ that night? Oh man, I should probably find that out sometime . . . _"At least, I don't _think_ so . . ." I muttered. "Anyways, how goes it? What's new?"

"Abe told me about . . um, what happened in your room," she said bluntly.

Like _that's_ a big surprise. "So what?" I shrugged.

"_And_ Devon told me about your guys' little talk," she continued.

God, he is _such_ a tattle-tale. "Again, so?"

"If you want someone to talk to, you know I'm here, right?" she lay a gentle hand on my shoulder.

I nodded, and she moved her hand, leaning back in her chair. "You weren't the only one upset by him leaving, you know," she informed me. The accusation in her voice was rich and smarmy: _**I**__ didn't go off the deep end like you did.._

"Kate, lemme explained something here," I sighed tersely, "I grew up with these people. This place is probably the _only_ place I can properly call home. _You_ guys are my family. So forgive me for taking it a _little_ harder than you."

"I'm not saying that," she half-snapped. "I'm telling you that you're not alone."

_You're not alone_. Wow, who thought that those three words would make me feel a little better inside. I've been alone for so long - not just back in Nebraska, but for part of my child(teen)hood. I've never had someone tell me that they were going through the same things, too. It was . . . . nice. Can't really think of another word to call it other than "nice".

I looked over at Kate and smiled. "Thanks."

"Anytime."


	5. When They Come For Me

**Hey guys! Missed me? Okay, I know I told you I'd update once a week, but you know me . . . I'm a hopeless flip-flopper. So this is chapter five, which I hope you all will enjoy. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE review if you love me! I shall give thee cookies!**

**I plan to update once more at least before Halloween, but if I don't, HAPPY ALL HOLLOW'S EVE!  
**

* * *

Chapter 5: When They Come For Me

_I am not a pattern to be followed.  
The pill that I'm on is a tough one to swallow.  
I'm not a criminal, not a roll model,  
I'm not a born leader, I'm a tough act to follow.  
. . . Oh, when they come for me, come for me, I'll be gone . . .  
_~Linkin Park

* * *

Okay, after my wonderful twelve-hour shift on "monitor duty" (insert shudder here), I needed sustenance. _NEEDED_ it. So I stumbled to the kitchen and managed to fish out some Dr. Pepper from the fridge. I think I might've surprised some people, seeing how this was the first time they've seen me in seven years, and I was in pajamas. Man, that is so taboo, it's not even funny anymore.

I wish I could say I got in and out without any problem. But, of course, there's always that _one wee mini thing_ that kicks my ass.

There was this chick - blonde, tall, muscled, the exact opposite of myself - practically _sauntered_ up to me. I had Dr. Pepper in one hand, a couple frozen waffles in the other, and a piece of fudge clamped between my teeth. She just sorta stared at me for a moment, while I tried to get the lame-ass toaster to work.

I finally got the thing to take my waffles, so I pulled the hunk of fudge out from between my teeth and said, "Y'know, a picture might last a little longer."

She just kept staring.

"What the hell?" I asked. "Do I got something in my hair? Am I missing an eyebrow?"

"I'm just looking at who was one of the late, great Bureau agents," she shrugged. "I thought you'd be more . . . impressive."

I rolled my eyes and ate my fudge. This chick was whack. Without even thinking, I burst the lightbulb above our heads. She gave a small shriek and dove to the side. I just shook the glass shards off my shirt and continued to wait for my waffles.

"How's _that_ for impressive?" I muttered. My waffles popped up, and I snagged them. "Next time, pick on someone with your own pH balance."

"You're still a brat, you know that?" she mused. "Years of training and a year of therapy did _nothing_ for you."

Oh, she thinks being locked in a cell is therapy? Can't wait to get _her_ down there.

She leaned up against the counter next to the fridge. "You're a disappointment to every agent here, every agent missing, and every agent _dead_."

Oh, them's _fightin'_ words. I set down my waffles and turned back around to face her. I was shaking - physically fucking _shaking_. I clenched my fists for a moment, then I leaned on hand on the counter and pinched the bridge of my nose. I was getting a massive headache - it happened when I get _real_ upset in a matter of minutes. Call it passing the point of no return.

I did not need this. I did not need to do this. I had no need to prove myself to this woman. But there was that little piece of me that _wanted_ this more than anything in the world. So, I shot back, "Who the hell're you, and how long have you fucking _worked_ here?"

There was a monotonic murmur in the other agents watching; perhaps it was someone who knew me that was warning everyone else. I really hope so.

"Agent Bethany Cartwright," she replied with a smirk, "And I've been working at the Bureau for the past five years."

"And you're still alive," I mused. "Man, you better be sending your guardian angel or whoever's covering your ass a ton of cookies or some shit." I smirked back. "Well, _Bethany,_ my name is Jink. Nothing more, nothing less. And I've been on the government's payroll for twenty years."

"So, you've been working here . . . _since you were five?"_ she demanded.

"Four, actually," I shrugged. "But I shaved off the year I was in the Vault. Doesn't really count if all I did was sit around in a metal cell, y'know?" Here, I grinned maliciously. "But, of course, that makes me a brat and a disappointment to the people who consider me _family_. Got anything else to say?"

"Yeah, actually," she said. "If you were so fucking _wonderful, _and if this place was so _nice,_ why did you _leave?"_

"You'd leave too if they locked you in the Vault," I pointed out.

"But they said they were sorry," she shot back. "If they were sorry, and if you've forgiven them _why did you leave?"

* * *

_

She had asked me a question I couldn't rightly answer. At all. It was like one of those mind boggling questions whose answer was always out of reach.

"_Why did you leave?"_

I couldn't answer it. I didn't know why I left that day. Maybe it was a need to see something outside of my little box, or maybe it was because I was so upset I needed to get away. Maybe both, maybe neither.

_Well,_ I thought as I loaded a gun and shoved it into the waistband of my pants, _I know why I'm leaving __**now.**_

Yep, I was leaving again - but this time, I had a mission. I wasn't leaving for my own selfish gain this time. I was brought home to find Greg, and I was going to do it, Goddammit!

I wasn't doing this commando style, though. I was planning this out nicely. I was going to take a phone so I could keep in constant communication, I was going to bring food, and money, I even had my laptop in order to quell boredom.

And all this was going to be in my awesome Army Jeep. Ha ha ha! I was stealing their car!

I shouldered my backpack filled with the aforementioned crap (plus a spare t-shirt or two) and dug into my pockets one more time. I had my iPod, I had my ID, and I had one of my dozen bottles of pills. Everything I could possibly need.

I took one final look around my room. It was weird; I just came back, and now I was leaving again. Talk about irony, huh? But that's okay; I knew, without a doubt, that I'd be back someday. I don't know when that day will _be,_ but I'll be back.

I left my room and locked the door. As I walked down the hallway, as I passed each door to other bedrooms, I lay my hand on each one.

Roger. He died oh so long ago, so tragically.

Liz. She apparently disappeared.

Daimio. AWOL. Most likely dead.

Greg. Another poor victim of circumstance. I bet he's living it up and doesn't _want_ to come back.

Hellboy. Gone for too long; who knows if he's dead or alive.

Abe. He's here physically, but know one knows what's going on in _his_ mind.

So many people affected. So many people scarred. Too many people dead.

* * *

I slipped into the Jeep and ran my hands along the dash. It was a cool car, yeah, but what I wouldn't give to be in a Thunderbird, or a Camaro. Man, those were _nice cars. _If those were eleven on a scale of Awesome (1-10), then this Jeep was a seven.

I sat behind the wheel for what seemed like eternity. I had no qualms about leaving. What I had worries about was how I was going to handle Greg if - _when_, I forced myself to think - I found him. And about what lse I might find. while I was out there.

When the door to the garage opened, I jumped a little, but I totally relaxed when I saw it was Kate. "Hey, Kate," I sighed. "Seeing a lot of you these days."

"Day," she corrected me. "You haven't even been here a full twenty-four hours and you're already leaving."

Dang, what a guilt trip. Didn't know she'd miss me _that_ much. "I'll be back," I tried, "And I have my cell phone."

"But can't you wait a week?" Kate demanded. "Make better plans? Maybe have someone go with you?"

"No, Kate, I can't stay here," I said. "Manning brought me back for the soul purpose of finding Greg. At least, that's what he told me."

"He told us that you chose to come back," she told me.

Huh. "Well, I never thought I'd use the word "manipulative" on Manning," I said slowly, "but there ya go." I took my hands off the wheel and crossed my arms. "But I'm finding Greg. It's what I came home to do." I reached under the seat, pulled out the set of car keys, and shoved them in the ignition. "But I promise you that I'll be back."

"Good," she nodded. "Because if you _don't_ come back, I'll kick your ass so hard you'll _grow."_

I smiled. _That_ was anew side of Kate I hadn't seen. "Way to go, toughie," I appraised. "I'll make sure to come back, then - don't want the Wrath of Kate on my ass."

She laughed a little. That was the last thing I hear before I started the engine and headed out into the world.


	6. Phenomenon

**Hey hey hey, peoples. Did thou miss me? Okay, so as I promised, the NEW CHAPTER IS UP BEFORE/ON HALLOWEEN. Happy scare-day! alright, so PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE review for this chapter! I love those who review! AND ZIPPER, OF YOU'RE READING THIS, YOU BEST UPDATE THAT STORY OF YOURS BEFORE I SEND OUT THE NINJAS!**

**Love ya's! ~izzy  
**

* * *

Chapter 6: Phenomenon

_Surround, invasion,  
With communication,  
Move quick, we might  
Avoid contamination  
_~Thousand Foot Krutch

* * *

I drove for a couple days straight; I couldn't force myself to sleep, and the tank was full. I had no need to stop. I actually drove southwest, to Cali, instead of northeast, like I was thinking of. Something was drawing me out there, like some sort of magnetic force. But I was going to head up to British Columbia next. It was on my list of things to do.

I couldn't make it all the way there on one tank, though. I had to stop somewhere in New Mexico for some gas. I made this trip as quick as possible; even _New_ Mexico put me on edge. It was a quick in-and-out thing, like going to the doctor for a check-up. You go in, do it, leave, and pretend that it never happened.

When I finally made it to Cali, I realized my mistake: this place was _way too damn bright._ Greg was all about the dark, and this place was filled with those fucking golden-tan people with their golden hair and their tallness . . I'm sorry, I got a bit carried away there.

But anyway, I stopped at a cheap motel and set up my small one-night base. I was going to head north next; Oregon, Washington, maybe Canada if I wanted to. I had no time limit, and I could do what I wanted to. Talk about going mad with power here.

My base was a simple thing. I had a laptop set up, I had my normal "music-sharing" websites going so I could download music, and I had the coffee maker going, the sounds of of the machine whirring and and humming like there was a little elf in there personally whipping up my French vanilla coffee.

The moment I sat on the bed, I was out like a light. For cereal . . . oh my God, I just said "for cereal" like Rayne does. I am so sorry, guys.

But I slept like the dead for about three hours, when I woke to this crazy _beeping . . ._ I sat up and walked over to my laptop.

**BPRD CALLING**, a bold button was exclaiming. I pressed **ENTER**, and an image of Kate sprang up on my screen.

"Oy!" I exclaimed. "Ka-aaaate! I was _asleep!"_

"Well, wake your ass up," she demanded. "I've got something you'll want to see."

"Unless it's a vision of logs being sawed, I don't want to see it," I replied irritably.

"It's about Greg," she explained. "There've been a couple of reports of "giant roach people" out west."

"Joy," I rolled my eyes. "Check it, I'm heading north, so I'll round about out west and do what needs be done. But are these serious? Like, for cereal serious?" Oh my God, there I went again. Once again, I apologize for my unruly Rayne-like behavior.

"We have pictures of what could be giant cockroaches, but we're not positive," she shrugged at me, thankfully not calling me on my Rayne-ism. "Better to check, though, huh? And why are you heading north?"

"I dunno," I shrugged back. "Something's . . . I feel like something's _calling_ me up there. Like, it's a gut feeling. I'm just following it."

"Well . . . we have reports of a Bigfoot up north," she stated tentatively. "You think you could . . ."

"Check it out?" I finished lamely. "Fine. But don't send a whole boat-load of people to "help" me," I made the quote fingers. "I work alone on this, clear?"

"Fine," she gave a curt nod. "So, where are you now?"

"Cali," I sighed. "Don't know _why_, though. Felt like something was drawing me here, too. Or maybe I was just tired of looking and living on plains and mountains."

"Whatever," Kate said. "Just don't hurt yourself, remember your pills, and don't _out_ yourself - we're on thin ice with the public as it is."

"Yes, _Mom_," I sighed sarcastically. "Love you too. Tell Abe I said hi."

She waved, and disconnected the line.

Great, so now I was awake. No going back to sleep _now._ What a dick move, Kate. _Thank_ you. I made my way over to my (now luke-warm) coffee, and made myself drink it. It was sort-of healthy for me, and I needed some sort of energy.

I walked outside for a moment and leaned up against the cool building. It was probably four in the morning, a couple hours before dawn. God, I was hungry. I should leave now, get a handle on my driving, and get a _feast_ from the nearest burger joint.

Something shifted in my field of vision in front of me. I whirled, reaching for the gun I had so foolishly taken off. I wasn't powerless; not by a long shot. I controlled my electricity into a small ball of energy in my left palm and made my way across the street.

I hadn't realized that it was one of those abandoned buildings that are so popular in my profession. If I was smart, I would have turned right back 'round, called Kate, and called in the Calvary. But you know me - I'm the comic relief, remember? It's like, my _role_ in life to do stupid shit like this.

I found the door and jiggled the handle. I knew there were easier ways in - such as where that blur had gone - but I was going the normal Jink way: into the middle of crap without thinking things through.

I opened the door, wincing at its creak. I shoved my hands forward and gave a small sigh as the bottom dropped out of my stomach.

The walls were covered - and I mean _covered_, as in to the point where they overlapped into random unintelligible scribbles - with that familiar scrawling language of the frogs.

That was enough for me. I ran out of the building, letting the door slam behind me, and ran across the street whispering harshly, _"Fuckfuckfuckshitcrapdamnfuck!"_ like the filthy-mouthed person I was. Man, it just occurred to me that I sort of had a bit of a cussing problem.

I ran back into my hotel room and grabbed my cell phone, which was sitting carelessly right next to my holstered gun. I picked it up, and my forward momentum caused me to fall forward and over the other edge of the bed. It didn't matter; I already had Kate's number dialed and was waiting for her to pick up.

"Hello?" Kate answered tiredly.

"_Kate, listen to me,"_ I whispered. _"I just found a nest - a fucking _nest_, Kate. You need to seriously send a team down here to take care of this fucking mess."_

"Jink?" she demanded. "What the-"

"_Kate!"_ I whispered harshly. _"I am taking care of this nest! Send someone to bag and tag the mess!"_

I hung up with another sigh and grabbed my gun. I vaulted over the bed and ran back across the street. I really had no serious thought through this. I was on autopilot, and it hit me more afterword than anything: this was my first frog assignment in eight years.

I burst through the door, first sending out a shock wave before sweeping waist high with a barrage of bullets. I'm not too sure if I hit anything, but I heard a couple squeals of inhuman pain.

I lit up my hand. There were three dead frogs on the ground, and about a dozen more heading my way. I took careful aim, trying for head shots but wincing at every shot I missed. I finally tucked my gun into the waist of my jeans and just started shocking every frog I could see. These were tougher, though. It took a bigger shock for each one so they'd go down.

When they were all finally dead, I stopped for a moment to check out my handiwork. Fifteen dead frogs, frog guts and blood all over the scrawled-on walls, and the stench of their bodies like some macabre perfume.

I let out a shaky sigh. Adrenaline was still pounding in my head, and my vision was sort of blurry. I hadn't felt like this since my first fight when I was twelve.

There was a small shuffle to my left. I whirled and shot a small shock, missing. I was on my guard again, arms held out to my sides and eyes wide to catch every movement.

Suddenly, something shot out and wrapped around my right arm. I let out a hoarse scream, and flailed said limb. I panicked and sent out another large shock. It fell away quickly, and I cradled my arm to my chest. It was numb, like someone just replaced my arm with a piece of wood. I looked around, narrowing my eyes. In the dim moonlight, I could barely see the outline of a large frog, and I was calmed by its dead stillness. I _got_ that mo-fo's ass.

I stumbled out of the building and back to my motel room. My phone and computer were ringing (and beeping) off the hook. I picked up my phone first, saying "Y'ello?"

"Jink, oh thank God, are you okay?" Kate rushed.

"Yeah," I panted. "I got 'em. One of 'em managed to snag my arm, but I'm okay." I checked out my arm: it was covered in pockmarks from the frog's tongue, and it was still numb. "For the most part, anyways."

"Jink, next time, you need to be more clear with your calls," Kate said

I rolled my eyes. It was going to be another one of THOSE conversations . . .


	7. From Underneath

**OH GOOD GOD ANOTHER UPDATE! I MUST REALLY LOVE U PEOPLE. Especially since my mom is on my case about college crap . . . BUT ANYWAYS . . . I wish all of you another Happy All Hollow's Eve, and PLEASE REVIEW BECAUSE I WUVS YOU. Seriously . . . please?  
**

* * *

Chapter 7: From Underneath

_Do you remember?  
That cold day in December  
Leaving everything you knew behind . . .  
I may never know how it feels to stand beside you  
(Or take your hand)  
When I need some direction,  
And I may never know what it's like to see you smile  
(Or look at me)  
Or know you'd be proud of me . . .  
_~Hawk Nelson

* * *

After I packed up, I got in my Jeep, got some gas (and munchies - you can never forget the munchies!), and headed north.

As I drove, I took small detours - you know, the ones where I could cruise down Rodeo Drive and Hollywood Boulevard, like the tourist I am. But of course, it was just a small detour. I was soon on my way again.

I thought as I drove. I had to throw my iPod in the backseat because the law states I can't wear headphones (as that wonderful police officer told me back on Rodeo Drive).

What was I looking for? God knows it wasn't Bigfoot. We've done plenty of Bigfoot crap back when I was younger. It was like, the one case they put me on to test me on the job to make sure I could handle it. And trust me, we didn't find anything.

Maybe . . . huh . . . gimme a second, I'm brainstorming . . . . WAIT! MEMORY BOOSTER! Waaaaaaaaaaay back when, when Daimio first turned into Monster Mash, _Daryl_ got out. Mayhap Kate thinks Bigfoot is actually Daryl? Maybe? Hell if I know.

But then there's this whole "duh" moment: we work for the fucking United Nations now. So if they want us to check out a Bigfoot sighting, fuck any other paperwork we have going, we check out Bigfoot! God, this whole UN thing leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

I drove until empty, thinking thoughtless thoughts (and listening to Ludo on the radio, because those guys fucking _rock_). This time, I was smack dab in the middle of Oregon. Instead of checking into a motel again (because that was _so_ much fun), I did what was probably the stupidest thing ever: I pulled into a rest stop and slept in the back seat of the Jeep.

That was probably on my top ten list of "Stupidest Crap Done Ever", along with trying to fry that piece of tinfoil when I was eight and sticking that paper clip into a wall socket when I was seven. Yep, I've done some stupid shit, but this was probably the worst thing eveh.

I was curled into a ball on the floor in the back seat. I had everything covered so nothing could be seen through the window, but that didn't stop that little kid from peering in my window.

At first, I couldn't tell what it was. I saw a crazy bowl-cut and immediately thought it was that chick Justin Beiber haunting my nightmares. I freaked and screamed. The kid freaked and screamed, and ran. I shot up and scrabbled to find my gun.

Now this ginormous man is standing in my window. He's got a bit of a pudge, and he's going bald. I reach and roll down the window.

"-THE HELL YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING SLEEPING IN SOME FUCKING JEEP IN A PARKING LOT YOU FUCKING BITCH? YOU SCARED MY KID, YOU WHORE!"

I'm all _"Wha?"_ and for a second I stare at him, but then I start yelling back: "WHAT THE FUCKING HELL, MAN! I'M JUST TRYIN' TO SLEEP AN' YOUR PUNKASS KID COMES UP AND YELLS AT ME! GO TO HELL, YOU BASTARD!"

I roll my window up and curl back up on the floor. He stands there and yells at me so much I eventually have to pull out my iPod and listen to it until he goes away.

Stupid asshole.

* * *

I eventually stop and pull over a couple days later on the outskirts of a small town in British Columbia. I decided not to take a peek in the town, due to the horrible _thought_ of dealing with rednecks. I'm sorry for all of you out there, but there was no way I was dealing with people that would probably try to burn me on a stake for working for the government. I don't work well with people like that.

So instead of pulling into a town, I pulled the Wonder-Jeep up into the outskirts of this forest. It's a pretty nice place, and it sort of reminds me of the forest in the _Wolfman_ movie, because the pine trees are set far apart.

Before I stroll on in, I pull out my cell and call Kate again.

"Hello?" she answers in a strained voice.

"whoa, Kate. Calm down," I say slowly. "Cut down on the caffeine."

"Sorry, Jink," she sighed. "I'm just running into all sorts of hell today. What's up?"

"Just checking in," I said. "I'll call you later, like tomorrow. I'm sorr-"

"No, it's fine!" she interjected. "Just dealing with Johann, that's all."

"Tell 'im I said hi," I sighed, "And I'll call back, okay? I don't want to detract from Johann."

"No, please, hold-" she tried to say, but I hung up.

I hated how she said that: _Just dealing with Johann, that's all_. God, if he was there, that right there might've broke his little non-existent heart. Yeah, he's a bit of a prick, and hasn't really gotten over losing that body all those years ago, but no one deserves to be treated like that.

So I grabbed a flashlight (yes, an actual flashlight, because I was being lazy), the iPod, and a compass. No use getting lost, after all. I started my trek through the woods.

At first, I just relaxed and listened to the music. I swept my flashlight from side, barely glancing around. I was barely paying attention, which is a Pretty Bad Thing. One of those Pretty Bad Things that Kate or Manning would whack me upside the head for.

But after a couple minutes, I noticed something was . . . off. I paused the music and pulled out my headphones. Someone was off, definitely. I couldn't put my finger on it, but something was wrong here. I looked around, harder this time. Then it hit me.

There was nothing alive in this forest.

That's what was so wrong. There were no animals. No birds, no mice, no _anything_. It was discerning, to say the least. The silence . . . it was roaring. I couldn't figure it out. It was . . . _scary._ And I use that term lightly. I tread carefully after that, focusing intently on the surrounding area. This was getting pretty crazy.

I was scared by my surroundings for the first time since I was a kid. Like, _scared_ scared. I could feel my heartbeat all the way down in my toes, and I was sweating buckets. My breathing - the only discernible sound at _all_ - seemed to echo in my ears.

"What the _hell_, man?" I demanded of myself quietly. "We don't get scared, remember? We eat fear for breakfast with a bowl of nails. We're cool . . . we're icy chill, daddy-o . . ." Enter in the beatnik. Great. Fantastic.

A twig snapped, and I actually _gasped_ as I whirled with my flashlight. Nothing there.

"Hello?" I called. "Anyone there?"

Nothing.

"Check it, whatever-the-hell-you-are," I demanded, "But if you screw with me, you're _dead_. You hear? No where the hell are you?"

Nothing . . . again

I gave a shudder. This wasn't cool. At _all_.

I turned around, and gave a small yelp in surprise. There was this _guy_ standing there, in combat boots and faded Army fatigues. He had some killer hair action going, and he had a semi-automatic rifle pointed about a foot away from my face.

"_What the fuck are you doing here, kid?"_ he demanded.

Waaaaait a second . . . _I_ knew that voice . . .

I dropped my flashlight and stared at him as the small circle of light rolled away, mouth agape.

"_Daimio?"_


	8. Comatose

**Heeeeeeeeeeeey guys! OMG ZIPPER UPDATED! GO READ! Okay, anyways . . . this chapter is a little longer than the others, and you'll see why in a bit . . . but I give you, A CONTEST! I put a Scott Myer quote somwhere in this chapter . . . what is it? First two people to tell me get, er, whatever they want . . ? Winners' choice!  
**

* * *

Chapter 8: Comatose

_I hate feelin' like this.  
So tired of tryin' to fight this.  
I'm asleep and all I dream of  
is waking to you . . .  
Tell me that you will listen.  
_~Skillet

* * *

You ever have a feeling like you were about to burst from excitement? Like, you were _so happy_ it was too big for your body? That's what causes happy tears, I think. It's the only way all that inside happy could get out without you combusting.

That's what was happening to me at the moment. I had already dropped the flashlight, thankfully, because my hands started shaking like a junkie's might. My breathing was still all raggedy.

"_Oh my God,"_ I wheezed over and over, "_Oh my God . . . oh my God . . . oh my God . . . ."_

He let the muzzle of his gun drop and he asked, "Kid, you okay?"

I was starting to hyperventilate now. I was having trouble getting words out, but the one word I managed to get out was _"You . . . "_

"Kid?" he asked again. He sounded really worried, and he was looking at me in concern. "You sure you're okay?"

"_You . . ."_ I said again. So many conflicted emotions were making it hard to say anything. Part of me was so _ecstatic_ to find him alive I was having trouble trying not to cry. But then, part of me was so _angry_ that he _left_ and basically killed my life for a year, I wanted to deck 'im and turn the gun on _his_ ass.

But what's the first thing out of my mouth? "Gonna . . . gonna kill you . . . scarin' me like dat . . ."

Daimio rolled his eyes. "Man, eight years, an' you ain't changed a goddamn _bit_," he muttered.

"And _you_ ain't changed neither," I remarked, slowly getting control back over myself. I shook my head. "Seriously, the woods? In good ol' Canadia? You need your head checked."

"You gonna follow me or what?" he called over his shoulder, walking away. I didn't hesitate to follow him.

* * *

I sat on a log in front of a roaring fire. Daimio sat next to me, poking the fire with a stick. I was practically sitting on my hands to stop myself from reaching out and just _touching_ him.

"So . . . how you been?" I asked.

Nothing. In this quiet moment, I took a second to examine every inch of him. He had this huge beard/mustache combo going, and I have to say I liked it quite a bit. He seemed a little thinner, but that didn't seem to take away from his toned look.

"I bet you've been having fun in the woods, huh?" I tried again, and I ignored the fact that I just totally considered how hot he was. God, my brain is so totally getting fired for this.

_Still_ nothing.

I've had it with him by now. I tackled him to the ground. He wasn't expecting anything at _all_ like that from me, so I managed to get the upper hand. After a moment of struggle, I had him face-down on the ground with his right arm up at such an angle another inch would pop it out of its socket, and my knee on the back of his neck keeping his head on the ground.

"Check it, supercop," I growled, "You don't invite me to come _after_ you and then treat me like I'm _invisible_. _Got_ it?"

He growled in a way that could've either meant "Yes, I got it," or "You hide shall make a fine poncho!" I took it for the former, and got up off of him.

He got up like a shot, and started pawing at the left side of his face. Ha, I almost forgot about that. He musta got some leaves stuck in his mouth.

"Sorry 'bout that," I said lamely. The sudden rush of adrenaline had been enough to make me forget my thoughts for a bit, but now they were back in full force. Fan-fucking-tastic.

He glared at me as he picked out the last leaf from between his teeth. "You've grew another pair, kid," he admitted, to my surprise. "Or I've just gone soft."

"You forget my name while you're growin' _soft_, old man?" I smirked.

I could've sworn that I saw him smile. "Who could ever forget you, Jink?" he asked, suddenly sounding quiet. But then he came back with his usual demeanor and said, "You _brand_ yourself on the mind of everyone around you."

I smiled. "Well, at least you remember me," I shrugged. "So . . . what you been up to?"

"Nothin'," he finally responded.

Screw it. I wasn't going to get an answer out of him. There was so much I wanted to talk about with him . . . but it was going to have to wait. I guess.

He didn't say anything when I curled up next to my log and watched the fire until I drifted to sleep.

* * *

I woke up in a bed. My first thought was "OMGWTFBBQ!" like every other time I woke up in some weird new place. My _next_ thought was, "Okay . . . whose hand is on my waist?"

Yes indeed-y, there was a _hand_ on my _waist._

I hit the "panic" button and started to struggle. Immediately, the hand on my waist turned into a bar of an arm across my stomach pulling me backwards into a warm body. A mouth on my ear whispered, "It's just _me."_

I closed my eyes. I knew that voice. But it was coming from the last person who should be anywhere _this_ close to my person.

"_Ben?"_ I said, sounding surprised.

"No, it's Charlie Chaplin," he said in a slight sarcastic tone. He gave a slight squeeze, let go, and got up off the bed. It gave me the opportunity to sit up and swing my legs over the edge of the bed.

I wasn't any different, really. I _felt_ older, yeah (a little), but my legs still felt the same in their silky black pajama pants, my hands still looked the same . . .

Except for the diamond set in a golden ring sitting smack dab on my left ring finger.

Oh. Shit.

There was a sudden weight on the bed as arms wrapped around my waist and hauled me backwards. I gave a small shout as I felt my back collide with the mattress. Ben stared down at me. He basically looked the same, except his mountain-man grizzle was gone, exposing his invisible left cheek to the world; his hair was still a little shaggy, though, and I had to restrain myself from running my hand through it.

"You okay?" he asked.

Uh . . . shit, what am I supposed to say? "Sure, I'm fine, but I'm actually having an out-of-body experience and my body is actually a couple years behind me"?

"Yeah," I said faintly. "I-I'm fine."

"Good," he murmured as he lay a gentle kiss to my neck (OH DEAR SWEET GOD WHERE THE HELL AM I?). "You're never in a good mood when you don't feel good."

_Oh my God,_ I was thinking, _where ever the hell I am, please don't make me go back._

I closed my eyes as he gently pressed his lips to mine . . .

* * *

. . . and I shot up from my spot on the ground. I looked around, and to my disappointment, I was back in the forest. Daimio was still sitting on the log. I couldn't have been asleep for more than twenty minutes.

_That dream . . ._I thought distantly, _ was probably . . . THE BIGGEST COCKBLOCK . . .in the world. _

I got up and started blindly into the woods.

"Where you going?" Daimio shouted at me, standing up to follow me.

"Stay here," I ordered. "'Kay?" I didn't stick around long enough to hear him answer me. I just walked until I figured I was probably twenty or thirty minutes away from the campsite, where I hauled off and hit a tree.

"YOU-GOD-DAMN-MOTHER-FUCKING-COCK-SUCKING-SUB-CONSCIOUS!" I bellowed, hitting the tree with all I had between words. "YOU-CAN'T-LEAVE-ME-WELL-ENOUGH-ALONE-YOU-FUCKING-WHORE! _I-HATE-YOU!"_

I wasn't that strong anymore - I had gone eight years without training so religiously as I had when I was a teen - but I was still strong enough to strip the bark from the tree and mangle my hand beyond all recognition. When I was done screaming, I just wrapped my arms around the nearest branch and cried bitter, hateful tears in gut-wrenching sobs. The tree smelled funny as my tears burned blackened trails down the trunk.

It was all so unfair. My brain was screwing with me in a cruel and unusual way.

_You deserve this. You deserve every bit of this. You're so stupid for even thinking he might like you in the same way you seem to think you like him. _

In case you're wondering, that wasn't the voice talking to me. That was me yelling at myself; it happened every now and again.

"_Please . . ."_ I begged. "_No."_

_Yes. You're nothing but a punkass kid with romance infecting your brain like a tumor. When are you going to learn that you don't get happiness in life? You're nothing. You're an afterthought in the book of history. You're barely even a person, ya know._

I pounded my fist uselessly against the tree. It was all so unfair. So, so unfair.

I didn't hear Daimio come up behind me in all my angsty tears. So it was a complete surprise when he grabbed my shoulder and tried to wrench me away from the tree. I shoved him away from me, now embarrassed that I was crying like this where he could see me.

"Fuck, kid, what _happened?"_ he demanded, trying to get closer to me.

"_Go'way!"_ I cried at him. "_Le'me alone!"_

He managed to catch ahold of the hand I had been pounding the tree with. "Fuck, Jink," he cursed again. "What the fuck got _into_ you?"

_He doesn't know. Don't ruin it. _

I didn't say anything. I just rubbed away at my eyes. He held my hand carefully, gently probing for broken bones. "_Fuck."_

"Is there any other words you know beside _fuck?"_ I demanded thickly.

"Not when you just smashed your fucking _hand_ against a fucking _tree,"_ he snapped. "No what the _fuck _got into you?" After a moment of silence, he squeezed my jacked up hand, making me gasp sharply in pain. "_Tell_ me, before I rip off your _goddamn hand."_

I glared at him, and wrenched my hand out of his grip. "You wanna know what's _wrong_ with me?" I demanded. "There's a _lotta_ stuff fucked up with me! Where'd you want me to _start?"_ I was bordering the line of hysterical now; I was pacing the ground like a caged animal. "And what's funny is that _all_ of it is _your_ goddamn _fault!"_

"How the fuck is any a' this _my_ fault?" he demanded.

"You _left,"_ I snarled. "You _left_, and you . . . you . . ."

Oh, I bet you know know how I wanted to finish that sentence: "_You broke my heart, you SOB!"_

But _he_ didn't know that, so got right up in my face and snarled, "_What_ did I _do?"_

I backed up and leaned against the tree again, pinching the bridge of my nose with my good hand. "Nothing," I whispered hoarsely. "You didn't do anything. It was all my fault." I started walking away.

"Don't be like that!" he exclaimed, grabbing my shoulder and hauling me backwards to face him. "Now _what the fuck is __**wrong?"**_

I don't know what came over me. I really don't. Maybe it was lack of Dr. Pepper in the diet, or some weird shit like that. But I don't know how to explain my behavior.

I reached out, grabbed the front of his shirt, and pulled him down for a kiss. _One . . . two . . . three . . ._ I pushed him away from me.

"I _love_ you," I spat before walking off and leaving his bewildered ass behind.

* * *

**truth be told . . . . . . . i think i had too much fun writing that dream sequence . . . XD**


	9. Demolition Lovers

**hey hey hey, folks. it's me again. yeah, i'm not using capitol letters here - screw it. it's effing midnight, i'm sort of depressed, and no one really takes a lot of time to read AN's anyways. but, anyways, here's your new chapter. i'm not pressuring anyone to review, because I already know this chapter sucks. So just read it and be happy.  
**

* * *

Chapter 9: Demolition Lovers

_I'm trying . . .  
I'm trying . . .  
To let you know just how much you mean to me.  
And after . . .  
All the things . . .  
We put each other through . . ._  
~My Chemical Romance

* * *

I crossed my arms as I stalked through the woods. I had to find the Wonder-Jeep, and fast. I wasn't ashamed of what I had done, but I knew _he_ wasn't all too pleased with me.

I was passing the campsite (again) when I finally heard Daimio's footsteps behind me. He was running to catch up with me, but I didn't give a damn. I was going . . . . somewhere. Other than here. I didn't really give a fuck where.

He reached me (finally! God, he grew _slow!) _and started yelling at me. "_What the hell was that? Where the fuck are you going?"_

I snapped, "God, I thought a man your age would know a _kiss_ when he got one. And I'm fucking _leaving._ What does it _look_ like?"

"What the _hell_ is _wrong_ with you?" he demanded.

"I already fucking told you," I growled, picking up pace. "What else do you want?"

He grabbed the back of my shirt and dragged me backwards, whipping out a hunting knife and putting it to my throat. I stopped, and was all, oh, hai thar, knife, nice to meet you. You know: when it's so close to your face you can't help but notice every single scratch and mar on its surface.

"What the fuck was all that about?" he demanded.

"Whadda you think?" I asked faintly. "God, did you not hear me? Were you having an out-of-body experience?" Just saying it made me think of that dream, and made me want to start crying all over again.

"The only thing I have to respond to that is _what the fuck happened to you?"_ he demanded. He finally took it upon himself to let me go and put his knife away.

"You wanna know what happened?" I growled. "You fucking _left,_ and they stuck me in the fucking _Vault_ again, you asshole."

When he heard me say _The Vault,_ his shoulders slumped and he gaped at me. "_Again?"_

"For a fucking _year."_ I crossed my arms again. "I hope you're fucking _pleased_ with yourself." I started walking off again. He followed again, but I didn't let him stop me this time.

"God, _where are you going?"_ he shouted. "You don't _start_ shit like that and _walk off!"_

"Watch me!" I seethed. Wonder-Jeep was in sight; I jogged up to it and nearly threw myself into the front seat.

"Dammit, what do you _want_ from me?" he asked, sounding frustrated.

I slammed the car door and started the engine. "I want you to pretend I was never here," I said quietly.

He stared at me with bog doleful eyes, nearly snapping my heart into pieces. I sighed, and pulled a pen and paper out of the dashboard. I wrote something down and handed to him. "This is my number," I said quietly. "Call me when you're done playing hide-and-seek."

Yeah, I sounded a little cruel, but you have to remember that this was the guy who left, which made me so unstable I was in the Vault for a fucking _year_, and is currently wrapping barbed wire around my already aching heart.

He opened the paper, and his eyes widened a little. Yeah, I added a little something else other than my number, but I thought he deserved it. I smiled to myself as I peeled off and left him behind.

* * *

_Dear Ben,_

_I don't know why I'm writing this damn letter to you. You're probably never going to read it. Maybe it's a tool to vent to you **about** you, or maybe I really have some things to tell you so I can get it off of my chest._

_First thing's first: I am so sorry about how I acted. You weren't expecting that from me, so I know I totally caught you by surprise. It wasn't fair of me to do that to you. I shouldn't have tried to force myself onto you, demanding attention and affection. _

_Heh. Of course, in that dream of mine, I wasn't doing the throwing._

_Yeah, that's what started the whole mess: this stupid-ass dream. God, I swear, the two minutes after that dream were the most sexually frustrating in my entire life. Cross my heart and hope to die. And it's now on my top five of worst feelings ever, right next to rejection and guilt._

_You know, I barely know why I went and did that. It's the dumbest thing I've ever done. I don't even know _why_ I think I love you. Maybe I do and I'm in denial, or maybe it's just my way of missing you because you fucking __**left.**_

_All I can think right now is, "Shoulda, coulda, woulda." All of those whirling around my thinking space._

_I should've never have come up north._

_I would have been better off staying at the BPRD. _

_I could've ignored Manning that night, and be back home. _

_Yeah, it's funny. I left to go to college, and I've been at it for seven years now. I had to retake a couple of high school classes in order to get my GED and be prepared for college. Now I'm just taking random classes to occupy my time. I don't even fucking **work** anymore. _

_I want these words to make things right, but it's the wrongs that makes words come to life. _

_Why can't I just make things better? Why can't I just reverse time and stop your lying, bastard ass from leaving and ruining my life? _

_Why can't I ever just be fucking _happy?

_This letter has _no_ point whatsoever. I'm probably going to burn it when I get the chance._

_~Jink

* * *

_

I wrote the letter after stopping in a motel after three days of straight driving. I managed to bum a couple sheets of paper off of the manager, and I spend half and hour writing it.

My laptop beeped just as I signed my name on the bottom, the **BPRD CALLING** icon winking at me furiously. I press **ENTER**, and Kate appears on my screen.

"So, any sign of Bigfoot?" she asked, sounding a little too excited at the thought of the found "missing link".

"Nope," I sighed. "Not a sign."

She stared at me for a silent moment before asking, "Have you been crying?"

Shit. I admit that I cried a little on that three-day drive, but no way in _hell_ I'm telling _Kate_ that. "Psh, no," I scoffed, and looked at her like she was crazy. "What makes you say that?"

"Your face is all burned like it is after you cry," she dead-panned.

Well, shit again! "I . . . uh . . . stubbed my toe," I lied. "On the bed. Yeah, it hurt like a total _bitch._"

"Uh-huh," she rolled her eyes, totally unconvinced. "And just so you know, that mess you left behind in California needs you to fill out the paperwork. I'll need it by the time you get back."

"God, _fine,_" I crossed my arms. In reality, I was happy she changed the subject, but I _hated_ paperwork. "So how's everyone down there?"

"Peachy keen," she said flatly. "Jink, you know it's not okay to hold your feelings in-"

"Oh no!" I faked a yell. "It's a robber!" I slammed the laptop closed and lay back on the bed. This was not good. Any minute now, she was going to-

"_A prodigal son can't undo what he's done,  
A figurehead of capitol crime!  
With the light shining down,  
As you fall to your knees,  
To repent would be nothing lies!"_

Op, there it is: Kate's ringtone. Cool, huh? All government-y and fun stuff. Manning's is better. It's actually the first stanza to Kate's second.

But anyway, I ignored it. I didn't want to face Kate. Hell, I didn't want to face _life_. Mine was getting all too complicated right now. When do I get to escape?

The paper I wrote the letter on sat staring at me with forlorn eyes. Damn me for writing it. I grab it with the intent of destroying it.

But instead, I fold it with crisp creases and stick it by my laptop. Tomorrow, I'd bum more paper and a couple of envelopes.


	10. The Only Hope For Me Is You

**Okay, so I'm sorry if I've taken so long to update. Not only have I had college shit to deal with (insert shudder here), I've had some fanfaction work to deal with (the current title being _Honor Among Theives_; if you're interested in beta-ing THAT puppy, e-mail me), and I plan on starting another fanfiction (for a select few, and known only as "Project: Broken Bride"). But I give unto thee . . . CHAPTER 10.**

**And please . . . you guys love me. Review. Seriously, if I get at least four reviews for this chapter (or five more for the story in general), I'll update the next chapter in a matter of days (like, 2). PLEASE REVIEW.  
**

* * *

Chapter 10: The Only Hope For Me Is You

_Covered in all my friends, I still  
Think of the guns they sell . . .  
If there's a person I could be, I'd be another memory.  
Can I be the only hope for you? Because you're the only hope for me.  
And if we can find where we belong, we'll have to make it on our own.  
Face all the pain and take it on.  
Because the only hope for me is you alone . . .  
_~My Chemical Romance

* * *

I did just as I planned: I managed to bum more paper and some envelopes from the front desk of the motel. No one was up there, so I just left the door key and left.

I didn't know where to go next. My mind was still running from the _wonderful_ run-in with you-know-who, and the only thing on my mind was getting as far away from there as possible.

So I grab some gas and head out again. This time, I drove until I I hit some random city in South Dakota. I stopped at a small Comfort Inn, drop off my stuff, and got some Mickey D's. Food was always a good idea, especially when it was crunchy and full of good ol' MSG.

My cell phone kept ringing, and ringing, and ringing. I ignored it. I seriously did _not_ want to deal with all that right now. I just focused on getting food. Food's good, yes? Yes. Of course.

But when I got back to the hotel and found my laptop basically yelling at me using beeps, I finally answered it. But of course, me being me, I was all curled up in some blankets and crap so I couldn't be seen that well.

"Jink?" Kate called. "You awake?"

"Mostly," I sighed. "What's shakin', bacon? Any news on our favorite six-legged friend?"

"No," Kate shook her head. "But that's not why I was calling. You're still taking your meds, right?"

"Yeeeeeeaaaahhh . . ." I drew out.

"You're not mixing it with other pills?"

"Nope."

"And you're not taking any beer with 'em, are you?"

"Jesus, Kate!" I exploded. "What the hell is wrong?"

Just as she was about to say something, _another_ wonderful button started to blink at me: **ABE SAPIEN CALLING**.

God, really?

Kate pressed a button on her keyboard and now _Abe_ appeared on my screen. "Hey, Abe," I waved hi.

"Hey, Jink, Kate," Abe gave a nod. "Everyone okay?"

"I'm fantastic," I sighed. "And Kate's giving me the third degree for some reason."

"Well, I'm just making sure you're fine, that's all," Kate said, exasperated. "This is the first time you've been on active duty in seven years, and with today being-" she cut herself off, looking at me worriedly.

"Today being . . . ." I trailed off, trying to get her to continue.

"_Oh."_ Recognition flitted through Abe's face. "Roger."

My heart sunk. _Yes. Oh. _Shit, am I horrible or what?

"_Dammit, Abe!"_ Kate shouted. "_I wasn't trying to remind her!"_

That's why Kate was calling; she wanted to make sure I hadn't tried to kill myself again. Well, it's wonderful that they care.

With a sigh, I disconnected myself from the computer chat and shut down the laptop. I pulled my legs to my chest, rested my chin on my knees, and wrapped my arms around my legs.

_Roger . . . _

I thought about him a lot when I was in school. I never told anyone about him; I kept his name in my head and heart the entire time. I tried to keep his name alive, and it was the utmost dishonor to forget the day he died.

I mean, if _I_ died instead of him, he'd remember me. Wouldn't he?

Or would he? Would anyone remember me? Or would I just be another name volleyed around? "Oh, there used to be this girl Jink here, but then she got hit by a car or some shit like that."

They wouldn't remember me. It's not like I've done anything to benefit the BPRD at all. Seriously, I'm not _Hellboy_. No, I'm just me. Pitiful, depressed, schizophrenic me.

Someone knocked on my door, which I chose to ignore. But of course, this person wasn't having it. They opened the door and walked in.

I jolted from the bed and pulled out my gun, aiming it at the person.

It was a woman, arm raised and holding a cell phone. She was skinny, with glasses and light brown hair. Her badge said BPRD, and she wore a black long-sleeved shirt, cargo pants, and combat boots.

"Uh . . . hi?" she waved a little.

"Who the fuck are you?" I demanded. "And how the hell did you get in?"

"Your door was unlocked," she shrugged. "I'm Marie Jay. Corrigan sent me to make sure you're okay and you're doin' your job and stuff like that."

I pushed past her and to the door. "I thought I locked this damn thing," I muttered. I jiggled the door knob, and to my surprise it _was_ unlocked. I locked it angrily and whirled back around. "Look, kid, I don't need help, and I don't need people following me around," I seethed, pushing past her again. I grabbed my cell phone and started dialing.

"Don't you?" she replied rhetorically. "Don't you wish you had someone to talk to? Someone to talk things out with?"

I paused in my dialing. _Maybe . . ._ I shook my head. "I work better alone."

"But-"

I shoved her down and onto the bed and glared at her. "Lemme see your badge," I ordered. This was getting too creepy (and too convieniant) for my taste.

She pulled it off of her shirt and handed it to me. Since I was one of those "special" agents, mine looked different, but I could still compare the watermark . . . which was totally legit.

"How long you been working for the Bureau?" I asked.

"Almost two years," she shot.

"And _why_ would Kate send you after me?" I demanded hotly. "I've never met you, and there are dozens more _like_ you, only more expir-"

"Fine," she snapped, cutting me off. "I can leave. But when I do, I'm calling Corrigan and telling her I knocked on your door and you didn't answer." She put a hand to her ear. "Wait a second, was that a gun shot I heard? Or was it the clank of a beer bottle and the rattle of a pill fob?"

Oooh, she's sarcastic _and_ trying to blackmail me. That's a killer combination. I liked it.

I grinned crookedly. "Fine. You can help me. But I'm not here to cover your ass, kid. You get hurt, I'm ditchin' you, understand?"

"Aye-aye, Cap'n," she rolled her eyes and gave me a mock salute.

"Don't call me that," I ordered quietly.

She leaned back on the bedspread, and I took a seat in the room's armchair. This was so weird. Why would Kate send someone after me? I mean, she _knows_ I wouldn't try to off myself a second time. Seriously, that was all behind me now. I could handle myself, dammit!

"Y'know, I don't know why she sent me," Marie shrugged. "Perhaps it's because I was the only free agent. There's been a lot of mystery shit goin' on down at the Bureau."

I shook my head in a weird combo of confusion and defeat. "Whatever."


	11. On The Cross

**Okay, this is the shortest update EVER, but it _is_ an update. I swear by all that is epically awesome that I will update ASAP. And if it's not this story, it'll be _something_. Cross my heart, hope to fly.**

**This update goes out to RubyDracoGirl, who's had my back since day one of this story. Get well soon, Ruby!  
**

* * *

Chapter 11: On The Cross

_Over and over, and I still cannot believe  
(We can't save ourselves)  
Give me a chance up on the cross and watch me bleed  
(Now ask for help)  
Having faith in something you can't see  
(It takes something else)  
Over and over, and I still cannot believe  
(We can't save ourselves)  
~_The Used

* * *

When I was dead sure Marie was asleep, I left the hotel and went out walking. I'd never be able to sleep in that room with her. There were so many holes in her story . . . I didn't think I could trust her.

And seriously? Part of the agreement was that Manning wouldn't send anyone with me or after me. I already told him: if he did that, then our deal was off. I had every right to totally ditch her and the mission and go back to Nebraska.

_Buuuuuuuut_ . . . Kate wasn't privy to the whole thing. She thought I came back on my own. Marie _did_ say that Kate sent her. So maybe it was an accident.

I didn't want her. Yeah, so I told her I was cool with it. But I wasn't. I wanted to be by myself. Mostly, because I worried her safety if I totally lost it. I'm serious: if I lost it while she was near me, no more Marie. And I didn't want her to have to see me lose it.

I kicked at a stray pebble. No matter where it started, it always came to the same thing: how uncomfortable and untrustworthy I was of my own powers. I'm serious; it's been coming for a long time. I don't trust my life to it like I did when I was younger. And look what happened with the frogs: I _missed_ one. I _never_ missed one, and now I have the painful memory of a numbed-up arm.

I had the sudden urge to hit something. Then my hand twinged, reminding me that I was still recovering from the _last_ time I totally fucking lost it.

I walked a little more, and then finally took in my surroundings. _"Fuck,"_ I swore. "Really? Just . . . _really?"_

I was in front of a cathedral.

Okay, this was too weird. In fact, this was so weird, I didn't want to be affected by it. I stood and stared at it. This was all too fucking conveiniant for me. _Everything._ God, I'm like some sort of _magnet_ for all this shit. So I shook my head and kept walking.

I didn't see the stick in my way, so I totally tripped and fell on my face. I groaned in pain, and turned so I was laying on my cheek instead of my nose.

That goddamn church did this. With its high steeple and stained-glass windows, it was totally out to get me and my pagan-ness. I hated it and its entirety. And how it was _staring_ at me.

I rolled onto my back and sat up. Thankfully, no one saw me take a nose-dive. And no one was going to see me walk into that church, either.

* * *

"You think you're slick, don't you?"

I flinched. Dammit. Marie found me.

I was sitting in a padded pew in the back of the church, just staring at the place. There was a couple others in the church, actually praying, but it was basically empty. There was this huge cross sitting behind a podium at the front, and murals of Bible scenes covered the walls.

Marie sat down next to me. "You know, you aren't very stealthy."

I didn't look at her. "Thought you were asleep," I muttered. I wrapped my hands in the sleeves of my shirt.

"I call it the ol' "Fake 'n Follow" routine," she shrugged. "I fake being asleep, wait for someone to leave, and then follow them."

I rolled my eyes. "Yes, telling me this _totally_ makes me trust you," I said sarcastically.

"I'm just sayin'," she said. "You looked like you had something on your mind, so that's why I didn't push nothin'." She reclined in the pew. "But now I am. What'chu thinking?"

"Stuff," I answered. "Life. Death. Love. Hate. Tacos."

She glanced at the cross before asking warily, "You ain't one of those religious zealots, are you?"

I smiled a thin smile. "Please. That's probably the furthest adjective from my personality."

"Good," she nodded. "I hate all that religious crap. It's just a way for people to justify their actions."

"Well, I don't necessarily _hate_ it," I admitted. "I think it'd be nice to be so certain about something . . . . At least you'd know what would happen to you when you died."

"You go ahead and look at it like that," Marie stated, "But don't drag me into it."

"I don't plan to."


	12. Big Shot

Chapter 12: Big Shot

_You had to be a big shot, din'tcha?  
You had to open up your mouth.  
You had to be a big shot, din'tcha?  
All your friends were so knocked out.  
You had to have the last word, last night,  
You know what everything's about.  
You had to have the white hot spotlight.  
You had to be a big shot last night.  
_~Billy Joel

* * *

It took me a while to get used to having someone in the car with me as I drove. Marie talked nonstop about her family. Apparently, she had three older brothers who kicked her ass until she was thirteen and started fighting back. Her mom left when she was six, and her dah raised all four kids until his untimely death a couple years ago.

"My three brothers are in the Navy, Army, and Air Force," she went on, "So I _had_ to go into something Military-based like them. I just didn't know that it'd be _this._"

I was pretty close to braining her with the spare car battery at that point. Seriously, this was going on for almost five hours. _Five. Hours._ If it had gone on any longer, I was going to shoot her.

But thank Goddess, my cell phone rang (you know, the really annoying one that insulted me for not picking up fast enough). But I picked that thing up so fast, you could barely hear the insults.

"Hello?" I answered hurriedly.

"Jink! Dude! Where you been? I thought you'd be _back_ by now."

"Jessi," I groaned, "God, all I needed you to do was watch my place! Did Rayne explode the head again?" Yeah, she blew up my toilet once. I think she had Mountain Dew or some shit like that, because she lit an _M-80_ and dropped it down the crapper.

"No, no, no," she laughed. "I just wanna know where you've been. I've tried IM'ing you."

"Well, I've been away from the office," I sighed. "What's new?"

"Nothin' much," she shrugged. "Same ol', same ol'. I knit you a pair of socks."

"You knit me a pair of socks?" And then, "You _knit?"_

"Duh, Cap'n Obvious," she said. "Didn't you notice the awesome hats I'd wear around the winter? Or gloves? God, you can be so _slow,_ dude."

Yes, thank you, Jessi. I needed you to _remind_ me how slow I could be. _Thank_ you _so fucking much._

"Okay, well, fantastic," I said. "Socks. Wow. Thanks, man. I needed a pair."

"Uh-huh. Sure. Now where the hell _are_ you?"

I pulled the phone away from my ear and asked, "Hey Marie? Where _are_ we?"

"I think you drove in a circle," she shrugged. "We just passed a sign for Oklahoma."

I went back to the phone and said, "I think we're in Oklahoma, but I'm not sure."

"Well, _that's_ nice." There was a pause, and I could hear the faint sound of something smashing. "Dammit, Rayne!" Jessi shouted. "Gotta go, dude!"

"SHE BETTER NOT'VE BLOWN UP MY TOILET AGAIN!" I shouted into the phone before she hung up.I rolled my eyes and tossed the phone to the back seat. "God, I never shoulda let them in my house . . ."

"So, where was I?" Marie asked. She _then_ went off on a lecture about her oldest brother.

She's gonna kill me if I don't kill her first.

* * *

I didn't recall falling asleep, but I must've because I woke up in the backseat with a sheet tossed over me. Marie was in the front seat, driving. It was dark outside, and I could barely see any stars.

"You know, if I was boring you, you could've said something," she said darkly.

"I . . . I didn't want to seem rude," I said quietly. I didn't move to get up.

"Well, you fell asleep at the wheel and nearly crashed," she snapped harshly. "Dude, if you get tired of me, then you have to _tell_ me."

"Well, I'm _sorry,"_ I growled.

Marie paused for a moment, and sighed. "Kate called, about three hours ago. She said to head up to Washington. Someone saw something you'd be interested in."

"So, where are we now?" I asked. "How long was I asleep?"

"You were asleep for seven _hours_," she informed me, "And we're about to head into Nevada."

"Shit, _seven hours?"_ I asked, incredulous. "God, _why?"_

"There's a whole list of things," she shrugged. "Depression, sadness . . . . boredom . . . ." She eyed me in the rear-view mirror. "Or just holding feelings in."

Joy.

* * *

Okay, I won't bore you with the two-day trip to Washington. Seriously, just talking about it to you might make your IQ drop by about 38 points, and I don't think you can afford to lose that much.

But we made it in decent time. That's all I'm gonna say.

We were gonna park it in some city - it sounded like Wantanabe or some shit like that - that wasn't too big, but big enough to get lost in.

"Seriously, Marie, you should let _me_ drive," I seethed. "I think I can totally drive now."

"_Hell_ no," she growled. "Not after you nearly crashed into that tree because you _fell asleep._"

As you can see, we were both tired and testy. Marie was tired of driving, and I was tired of not-driving.

I peered around. The city was lit up brightly, and people were strolling around like they owned the place. Which, I guess, they did.

"Puh-_leeeeeeezzzz?"_ I asked loudly.

"_NO!"_ she snapped.

I slumped in the passenger seat. "Buzzkill," I muttered.

She suddenly pulled over, running the tire over the curb. "D'you see that?" she demanded.

"Dude, curb check," I said, ignoring her question. "Guess what? It's still there."

"No, man, I'm serious," she said loudly. "There's something _in that building."_ Marie pointed towards the building in front of us.

It was large, and condemned. God, someone's got a monopoly on this shit or something. The windows were large, and could have been beautiful once, but some of them were broken and boarded up. It was only one story, but it took up half a block. And inside the windows, I could see the faint shadows of something move.

"Oh. Yeah," I said lamely. "I see it."

Marie reached into the backseat and pulled out a couple of handguns. She tossed one to me, and we vacated the safety of our vehicle and towards the danger of the warehouse.

I peeked in through the windows. They were old and grimy, so I couldn't see anything but faint shadows. Shit - that meant I'd have to go inside.

Marie followed me to a seldomly-used door. With a sigh, I mentally crossed myself. I might not make it. Good-bye, cruel world.

I eased the door open and slipped inside, Marie hot on my tracks. But it didn't matter how quiet we were - we were noticed the second we walked through the door.

Remember how Gregory looked? If you could imagine a couple dozen cockroach people, all in various shades of deep browns and rusty reds, you'd be close to what I saw.

And they pretty much saw me, too.

"Shit," Marie sighed.

"Ditto," I agreed.

* * *

**Holy SMOKES! I'm UPDATING. **

**Sorry about the LOOOOOOOOOONG pause between updates, folks. I've had Newspaper crap to deal with, college crap to deal with, work crap to deal with, and family crap to deal with. Thanks to four years of hard work, I graduate in the middle of may, so I should be back to updating with regularity. **

**Please, thank LilixTheKitsune who BEGGED for this chapter. If not for her, I wouldn't've posted this. I hope you all enjoy this chapter SO MUCH that you review. Please? Even if it's just to yell at me for taking too long?**

**~Izzy  
**


	13. Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger

Chapter 13: Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger

_Work it harder  
Make it better  
Do it faster  
Makes us stronger  
_~Daft Punk

* * *

Well . . . _shit._ _This_ wasn't good. The cockroach people were on the approach, and I couldn't shoot any of them until I figured out which one was Greg.

So I reiterate: _shit._

"Way to go, Jink," Marie hissed at me.

"How is this _my_ fault?"

"Gimme a sec - I'm still thinkin' that up."

I rolled my eyes. I was going to die via cockroach, and Marie was going to blame me. Fantastic.

"Wait!" Marie said quickly, and dove for my pockets before I could stop her. "Lemme see your iPod!"

Uh, ex_cuse_ me? Was this girl trying to grab my iPod outta my pockets? Yeah, _that_ shit's not gonna fly.

I shoved her off of me and turned to run out back out of the warehouse. "_Fuck you!"_ I growled. "_No one touches the iPod!"_

I coulda got out, but she had one hell of a grip on my arm, so I was basically stuck. "Wait!" she snapped, "We can stop them with your iPod!"

That's like someone telling a mother that the monsters can be stopped with their baby. As in, _fuck_ no.

I tried to move harder and faster to get out of Marie's grip, but no luck. If I kept trying to avoid her, then we'd both die. If I went along with her plan for a moment, maybe I'd be able to ditch out when she let me go.

"What you got?" I asked, "And you better hurry - we ain't got time."

She stood and jammed her hand into my pocket, pulling out my iPod and headphones. With the skilled hands of an iPod owner, she scrolled through the menus and started scrolling through my music.

"Dude, if you're looking for music to die to, I already set up a playlist for that," I deadpanned.

No response. She clicked the wheel a couple times, turning up the volume as loud as it would go. She clicked play. Immediately the opening chords of some Daft Punk song filled the warehouse.

"Dude!" I snapped, going for her hands, my 'phones, and my 'pod. "You're gonna blow my headphones!"

"You can buy new ones!" she snapped, holding all of the above over her head.

Around us, the cockroach people had stopped advancing and were pausing to take in the music.

"There was a reason Greg liked this song so much," she said finally, a note of victory in her words.

Damn. I hate it when I'm wrong.

"How the hell did you even _know _that?" Yep, that's me - the girl saved my life, but I'm still so paranoid I'll pretend it didn't happen if it involved something fishy.

"It's in his file," she shrugged.

"So . . . our favorite music is in our file?"

". . . . Yeah. Totally." Now she was walking amongst the cockroach people. They practically ignored her, deciding to come more towards me.

"What's mine say?" I called to her.

"_Please,"_ she scoffed. "Your "file" takes up a whole filing cabinet. I haven't gotten that far yet."

The cockroach people were talking amongst themselves - clicking their mandibles in their weird language I could never understand - and then they started this call-and-response thing. Let me give an example. One random cockroach person would call out a couple clicks and squeaks and hill trills of sound, and the others would repeat part of it. And the weirdest part of it all was the fact that they were doing it to the beat of Daft Punk. I bet those French dudes wouldn't take it as a compliment if I told them that their music was liked by a sizable population of cockroach people.

For the most part, they didn't hurt me, which I was totally okay with. But when I would walk past, they would sorta reach down with their antennae and brush over my arms and shoulders, like they were _sniffing_ me. Do I smell good? What do I smell like to these guys? Questions, questions.

"What are you doin'?" I called through the crowd.

"I'm looking for Greg!" Marie called back. "He's gotta be here somewhere!"

Well, now I feel guilty. God, why _her?_ Stupid noob making me feel bad . . .

I shoved through some cockroach people, ignoring the funky feeling of antennae on my skin. I knew what Greg looked like - I knew that exoskeleton anywhere. At least, I thought I did . . .

In my defense, they all where a variation of the same shade. And when it's _dark,_ and I'm _tired,_ they all pretty much look the fucking _same_ to me. Some of them were clearly different, of course - a couple were missing antennae, or limbs, or just had some messed-up exoskeletons - but I was _out_ of it, man. I couldn't even believe that I was still functioning, ya know?

I couldn't tell how long it had been since when we started to when I heard, "I FOUND 'IM!" from across the warehouse.

I stumbled to where I heard the voice coming from, saying, "Yes?" as I walked. Ahead of me, Marie was comparing a picture in her hand to one of the multitudes. Her grin was of victory. "I found 'im," she said again.

I walked up to her and plucked the picture from her hands. It was taken back in the good ol' days; Liz was in it, with me, Roger  
_(my poor, poor Roger)_  
and Greg. It was a familiar picture. _Really_ familiar . . .

"How'd you get in my wallet?" I asked in an exasperated tone.

She shrugged, that victorious smile still on her face. "I have my ways."

I compared the cockroach person with the picture of Greg I had. (Mental note - would it be more politically correct to call them Insectoid Americans? Or Cockroach Americans? I feel so demeaning when I call them "cockroach people".) Same exoskeleton color. Same smooth texture (some of the others were real rough, ya know? You know.) It was more scarred now, yeah, but it looked the same. And all the scars in the picture were the same on the would-be-Gregory. But while picture-Greg had all of both antennae, would-be-Gregory was missing about five inches off of his left one.

As if reading my mind, Marie added, "It coulda been tore off in a fight or something."

I gave a slow nod, and reached into my pocket. I pulled out my cellphone and dialed a familiar number. It rang and rang forever until-

"Hello?"

"Kate?"

"_Jink?"_

"I found him."

* * *

I am _so_ glad I was not on the team that had to wrangle all those Insectoid Americans into a truck, and then a plane, and bring them to the Bureau. It took, like, _hours_ to even get them onto the _plane,_ and no one could find the tranquilizers that wouldn't _kill_ them so they were all fully conscious and fully _pissed._ You ever try to wrangle a pissed 6-foot-plus cockroach? It's like fighting a frog, times a million, and then times that by however many Insectoid Americans there were. And then there was the four-hour plane ride home (made that long due to turbulence and the fact that the people who were supposed to tell us to land were _asleep._ Can we say, "Termination", ladies and germs?)

. . . . I'm serious, I'm grinning so hard it's not _funny, _I'm so happy. But that's on the inside. Outside, my face is as serious as can be. Wanna know why?

"There's no way he'll ever be the same."

I stared at the doctor who dared to tell me this. "_What?"_

"I said, there's no way-"

"I heard ya the first time!" I growled. "But whaddaya _mean_ he won't be the _same?"_

"He won't be the same," he repeated. "He won't ever act human like he did before. His mind has fallen too far into his . . . . feral side . . . to come back to _this_ one. He'll be the way he is forever."

"_And there's nothing you can do?"_

He took a miniscule step back and an audible swallow. "N-No."

"_Then what the hell are we PAYIN' ya for!" _Snap, crackle, pop, and a lightbulb burst over our heads.

"_Jink!"_

I whirled on Manning. "Check it, now is _not_ the _time!"_ I snapped. I was still pretty pissed at him for lying just so he can have my help, on top of this whole new mess.

"Yelling at Dr. Monroe won't solve anything, and won't fix Greg," Manning chidded.

Fix? _Fix? "_Whaddaya mean, _fix?"_ I growled. "He's _fine! There's nothing wrong!" _Total flip-flop, right? I know, I even have _me_ confused. But phrasing it like that just _totally_ pissed me off.

Shit! My eyes were burning with frustrated tears. I took deep breaths to stop myself from sobbing, and refused to let myself wipe at my eyes. I won't let them see this. Never.

Manning just sighed. "He's fine," he agreed. "And for the time being, we'll keep him and the others down in the Vault where they can be monitored without hurting anyone."

I didn't have time to yell at him about the Vault, because I was speed-walking down the hall towards my room.

* * *

I stared at my eyes in the mirror, feeling like a general piece of crap.

I was sent to bring Greg home, and I could only rescue the body, not the mind. I felt like such a failure. How could I fail Greg like that? How could I continue to call myself his friend after this? Friends don't fail. You can count on them _not_ to fail.

I told him that once, didn't I? Even if I didn't, it was an unspoken agreement: as my "friend", I got your back. I'll help you with whatever, even if it's hiding a body. I'm supposed to be able to _help_, and all I did was probably make it worse.

I'm such shit.

I saw in the mirror as Marie walked into the bathroom, and I gave her a glare for not knocking or announcing her presence in some way.

"I bet you feel pretty bad," she said, sauntering up to me.

"Shut up."

"It's okay to talk about it, Jink." She stood by my side and added, "You feel almost like you did when Roger died." It wasn't a question.

"I said shut _up,_ Marie."

"Remember what you did then? You cut your wrists." She leaned in and whispered, "And _no one_ would blame you if you did it again."

I reeled away from her. What the hell is _wrong_ with this bitch? "Get the fuck out!" I shouted. "_Get out!"_

But she didn't. She leaned in and said, "It's just a cut, right? No one will know." _Then_ she had the balls to leave.

I looked in the mirror again, her words swirling in my brain.

_It's just a cut, right?_

It's . . . just a cut.

_No one will know._

No one will know.

_It's just a cut._

No! I have to be strong! STRONG!

_It's just a cut._

But I can already feel my resolve crumbling.

It's just a cut, right?

No one will know.

* * *

**Ha ha ha, I bet I get angry/surprised faces for that last bit.**

**OY MY GOD, I'M ALIVE! I've been bored for the past couple months, and since I'm no longer in school, I figured, "Hey, why not work on this?" So here I am.**

**I don't need to ask if you'll R+R (but it'd be nice if you did :D), but I'll tell all of you to have a GREAT day! **

**~Izzy  
**


	14. Party Poison

Chapter 14: Party Poison

_This ain't a party  
Get off the dance floor  
You wanna get down?  
Here comes the gang wars!  
You're doin' alright!  
I got the answer.  
'Cuz all the good times?  
They give you cancer!  
_~My Chemical Romance

* * *

So that's why there's a razor blade in my wallet right now.

And why I'm dumping all my meds down the toilet.

"No, Jink, stop!" If Hellboy or Liz were here, that's what they'd be telling me. Hell, if _Roger_ . . . (or Daimio) were here, they'd be telling me the same thing. But no - I'm stuck with apathetic Abe and mentally-AWOL Johann. Oh, and Devon, the prick that wants my boot and his ass to spend some quality time together.

But my meds aren't cutting it anymore. It helped in the past years, yeah, but when I go back to wanting to . . . do bad things, then it's not doing its job. So why bother taking it?

No one will care. No one at all. _I_ barely care, and it's my meds I'm dumping! So why expect anyone else to care when I don't?

With the last of the pill bottles emptied, it was just a small movement to press the plunger and listen as the only thing keeping me sane went down the crapper.

* * *

I burst into Manning's office, a duffel bag slung over my shoulder. I barely brought anything with me, so I didn't have much to carry back.

Manning jumped when I slammed the door open, and glared at me. "There's this new thing called _knock-_"

"I'm leaving," I interrupted.

"What? _Why?"_ He stood up behind his desk in surprise and anger.

I let my duffel bag drop and I crossed my arms. "I did what I came to do," I said. "And I'm _not_ staying here anymore."

I leave out the fact that I feel guilty for not being able to save Greg, and leave out flushing my meds. What he don't know won't hurt him _or_ me, right? Right.

"But we _need_ you!" he snapped. "You see what I have to deal with here? Kate already told you how we're under the power of the UN, and that practically _triples_ the workload!" He came around the side of the desk so he could look down at me in that condescending way of his. "I've already lost most of my fighting force here, and I need more people with _experience!"_

"Best way to get experience is to go out in the field," I shrugged. I bent and picked up my duffel bag and turned to leave.

Manning grabbed my shoulder hard and tried to force me to turn around. "Jink, you can't _do_ this!"

Alright, I have never once - _once_ - lain a hand on Manning (a record of which I'm proud, thank you). But he had never lain a hand on me. So I guess both our records in that aspect went out the window at that moment.

I whirled on him, grabbed the front of his suit, and slammed him into the closest wall hard enough to shake the wall and everything hanging one it.

"Look, _sir,_" I spat, "If you _call_ me _ever_ again, and it's _not_ an emergency, I will _punch you _so hard, I'll be able to pull your _pancreas_ up so you can _chew_ on it."

My fingers cracked as I let go of his clothing, and turned on my heel and walked out of the office.

* * *

You know, it's probably one of the nicest feelings of all time, walking up to your house and knowing that you're on your way home. I used to be able to feel the same thing when I walked the halls of the Bureau, but that place stopped being home a long time ago.

I can't tell you how hard it was to wrangle a ride back to Offuit, and to get a car so I could drive myself home. That just made coming home all the better.

_Home._ I love that world.

I smiled to myself as I pulled out the Hide-A-Keys and started unlocking the door. As of now, I had a hot date with my DVD collection, a BLT, some salsa, and all the Dr. Pepper I could stomach. Screw Rayne, Zora, and Jessi, screw the BPRD, screw _college._ I was doing what I wanted.

But let's not forget something, shall we? The last time I was on the phone with Jessi, it sounded like Rayne had blown my toilet sky-high again. So I could very well be walking into a mess.

Bracing myself, I flung the door open and timidly looked around. The place was about as dirty as it was when I left, and there was no tell-tale flood of water that would indicate a broken toilet. So far, so good.

"Guys?" I called out slowly. I dropped my duffel bag and closed the door behind me. My apartment seemed ghost-town empty.

Excellent.

I collapsed onto the couch and started flipping through the channels. I had all the time in the world to get up and make food. Right now, I think I'm going to take a nap.

"JINK!"

Or, y'know, _not._ I bolted up like someone had just dumped ice water on me. Jessi was standing in the doorway - key word _was._ Now she was mid-air and about to-

"OOF!"

-land on me. Man, was the girl _always_ that heavy, or what? My whole _body_ hurts now, thanks to her. Beautiful, ain't it?

"God, Jessi, _really?"_ I groaned. "I actually _need_ my _lungs!"_

"Sorry!" she said, rolling off me and landing on the floor on her knees. "I thought you'd be more ready . . ."

I groaned and curled into a ball. _Pain._

Rayne and Zora walked through the open door, closing it behind them quickly as if someone was coming after them. They were laughing - at least, until they saw me. Then their faces fell.

"'Sup, guys?" I grunted, giving a small wave.

"Dude, when'd ya get back?" Rayne asked.

"Five minutes ago . . . why?" Something here was fishy with a capitol F.

"Nothin'," Zora said quickly.

"Whaddaya mean nothin'?" Jessi snapped. "You didn't get the hash?"

Rayne shot Jessi a dirty look and Zora seethed, "_Jessi!"_

"What hash?" I asked, sitting up. If they're doing what I think they're doing - in _my_ apartment, no less - then my foot and their asses will be inseparable.

Before Rayne or Zora could say anything, Jessi said, "Oh yeah, Rayne knows a guy who can get us some good stuff for dirt cheap. It's _fantastic."_

"Hash?" I repeated. "No, I ain't with the DEA, so what the hell is _hash?"_

Zora and Rayne shot each other a look, and Rayne said, "It's the name I gave it. It's a mix of heroin and crank, sixty-forty."

"And it _is_ good," Zora added. "It's, like, a hallucinogenic and a downer having sex in your cerebellum."

"_Since when are you into DRUGS?"_ I shouted, jumping up from the couch. Nu-uh, man, I don't do that shit. And I don't want it done in my _house!_

Jessi shrugged. "It just seemed like something to do," she said. "And is there _ever_ a reason for doing something like this?"

She had me there.

"Besides, it helps people forget," Rayne said. "For a while, my troubles just . . . disappear." She became blissful at the thought.

Troubles disappear? Sounds . . . pretty good, actually. Pretty _damn_ good.

"And it's not like it does anything _bad,_ right?" Zora asked. "We've done tests on squirrels and stuff, and _they_ turn out all right!"

Well, I'm sold.

"Hit me up."

* * *

"Alright, you've been stuck before, so I don't need to tell you that it's gonna hurt."

"Just do it, mate."

Rayne held my arm steady and slid the needle into my arm. I gasped slightly at the prick, but then it was gone as soon as it appeared.

"It'll hit in a couple minutes," Jessi informed me. "Just wait - it's _awesome._"

There was no chance for second chances now. If this killed me, then it was my own fault. I was screwed.

I watched with glazed-over eyes as Rayne repeated the process on Jessi and Zora, and then finally on herself. And by then I was feeling . . . _it._

. . . . . Wow.

* * *

Colors.

Tastes.

Pictures.

. . . _wow._

* * *

when i was a kid i remember when manning let us get a christmas tree; the last one we ever had. it was beautiful. the colors, the lights, the sizable size that was fifty times bigger than my puny self. i loved it even more than the presents, which were cool in their own rights. when the lights were off, the christmas tree was like a laser light show.

that's what i keep seeing. this huge laser light show right behind my corneas, obscuring anything else i could be seeing.

it's beautiful.

* * *

when i was a kid i almost died. i was runningrunningrunning from a giant rock monsterlobstermonster and i trippedfellcrashboom into a cementwallouch and knocked myself outcold. then the monster grabbed me and started nomnomnomthisisgood on my leg. it hurthurthurt.

that's what i'm feeling now.

it's not fun anymore.

* * *

walking running walking running tripping falling tripping falling laughing crying laughing crying people places things things things wow running lights cops not good bad bad bad run run run as fast as you can you can't catch me i'm the gingerbread lightning bug gonna get me gonna get me run run run zora rayne jessi run hellboy run roger run liz run abe run ben run johann run tom run devon run mom run dad run run run i see you running with me don't stop keep running with me don't let them take you alive gotta survive i will survive i will survive it's a helluva good day to die and go to heaven hell somewhere in the middle middle middle ground middle earth the ring must have the precious ring laugh laugh laugh where am i lost lost don't know don't know how to get home get home bureau get to the bureau get to the burrow get under ground save yourselves i'll hold them back tonight save yourselves save yourselves save me save me save me . . . !

* * *

Wow. I never expected any of that to happen. At _all_.

I feel so out of it. Like I'm hungover. I can still see the lights flashing and forms moving, even though now I'm coherent enough to know that they were hallucinations. And something smells _nasty._ Like raw sewage. No, not _like_ raw sewage - it _was_ raw sewage. I know that smell enough to pick it out from _anywhere._ Why was I smelling it, though? I can feel where ever I am (somewhat), and it's dry, so I'm not in a sewer. But why the hell am I smelling it?

"Well, I never thought you could fall _this_ far, but I guess I'm wrong, huh?"

My eyes snapped open. Despite laying on the ground right next to the sewer grate, I had a spectacular view of Jessi, Rayne, and Zora standing in front of a familiar shadow.

Oh. Hey Ben. Long time no see. And falling? I think I already landed, thank you.

. . . . shit, was that in my mind or aloud?

* * *

**Wow, what a ride, right? Raise your hand if you didn't expect Jink to take the drugs!**

**Alright, props to ZipperWhippersnapper for proofing that last chapter, and to RubyDracoGirl for helping me deal with the fact that my stalker wants to jump my bones. (*shudder* - still freaked by that, dude).**

**R+R, even if it's just to yell at me about the drugs! Puh-LEEEEEEEZ? **

**As always, I love you guys, and have a whatchamacallit day.**

**~Izzy  
**


	15. ¿Viva La Gloria?

Chapter 15: ¿Viva La Gloria?

_Little girl, little girl why are you cryin'?  
Inside your restless soul, your heart is dyin'.  
Little one, little one your soul is purgin'.  
All love and razor blades, your blood is surgin'.  
Little girl, little girl you dirty liar.  
You're just a junkie preachin' to the choir.  
_~Green Day

* * *

"Dude, I totally didn't think you'd react like that," Jessi dead-panned, staring at my unmoving body on the sidewalk. "Really. Even _I_ didn't trip that bad, and I usually trip pretty bad."

"Yeah, man, you shoulda seen it," Rayne said to Daimio. "First she just lay on the couch, and then she started sayin' she had the munchies or some shit like that. So we started walkin', and a cop car drove by, and she totally fuckin' _lost_ it! She started runnin' off and collapsed right there."

Okay, judging by the fact that no one said anything about what I think I said, it was probably in my head. Okay, that's okay, it's okay, we're all peachy keen! Who the hell am I kidding? If we're coming down off hash, we're _not_ okay!

Alright, while I'm talking to myself here, remember to pick up more Dr. Pepper. I think we're all out.

Jessi bent down so she was looking at me eye to eye. "Dude, is she gonna be okay?" A beat. "Dude? Are you alright?"

Yeah, dude, I'm cool . . . er, well, I'm _gonna_ be fine.

. . . wait a second. That was supposed to go through my vocal chords and actually make _noise._ What up with _dat?_

Of course, being Mr. Man-In-Charge, Daimio bent down to look at me too. I wanted to close my eyes again, and pretend none of this had ever happened. I can do that. I can force myself asleep, and I can wake up and be ten again, when Roger was alive and Liz and Hellboy were home and everyone was happy. Before Mexico happened. Before things got complicated.

"We should get her to a doctor or something," Zora shifted nervously from foot to foot, looking around nervously.

Daimio got up from the ground and glared at her. "And tell them _what,_ exactly?" he seethed. "That you guys were _stickin'_ each other with God knows what?"

"Hey, _we _knew how we were going to react!" Rayne said loudly. "It's _her_ that went off the deep end! So leave any of that "you guys" crap out!"

This is fantastic. This is bloody _fantastic. _

I groaned and started to heave myself off the ground. Have you ever ran four miles without stopping, chasing after a demonic serial killer? You probably haven't. But when you run like that, and just stop, then your entire _body_ cramps up and hurts like a bitch. That's what's hitting me up right now, and it made me fall back to the cement of the sidewalk.

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, how far did I _run?_

Jessi looked over at me and said, "You're on the outskirts of town."

Which meant that I ran a staggering six miles. Damn, no _wonder_ I feel like shit.

Rayne added, "Yeah, man, I've only seen _athletes_ run that fast."

Ha, well, you've never see me run before, have you?

"No . . . I haven't," Rayne shrugged. "Why, you trainin' for the Olympics or somthing?"

. . . wait a second . . . . Thoughts! You're supposed to stay in my head! Goddamit, stop coming out of my _mouth!_ (I wasn't expecting an answer, and I (thankfully) didn't get one.)

Again, I tried to get myself up off the ground, and again the pain was so bad my arms couldn't support me and I fell back down. _Ow._

"So what do we do with her then!" Zora snapped. "We can't leave her on the damn _sidewalk!"_

"And who the fuck are you anyways?" Jessi asked, narrowing her eyes. "'Cuz, seriously, you look old enough to be her dah, and she told us that if we saw the dude, we had _total_ permission to kick his ass."

Oh God. This is going to be funny. How _would_ I explain this one? _"He's a guy I work with."_ _"He's only the object of my affection! Cut him some slack!"_ Or, my favorite, _"No, I don't know who he is. Sir, can I direct you to the nearest Wal*Mart so you can get a life? I think they're on sale this week."_ But that one might get my ass kicked.

"I'm a friend," was all he would say. Jessi kept glaring at him.

As I lay there, I started to hurt worse, which I didn't even think was _possible._ For the love of God, it felt like someone was injecting acid into my veins and pulverizing my muscles at the same time. I wanted to _scream_ with how much it hurt.

_Think happy thoughts. Think happy thoughts. Think HAPPY FUCKING THOUGHTS ALREADY!_

But I couldn't. All I could focus on was the _pain._ God _damn._

"Dudes, can we just get her home or something?" Zora demanded. "She looks like she's dying or something."

Please. Someone let me sleep it off.

"Let _Muscle Man_ there carry her," Rayne snapped. "I ain't helpin' her ass. She shoulda known she was gonna react like this, and not've done it."

"That's nice, Rayne!" Jessi said. "_You're_ the one pushin' it on her!"

"'_Scuse_ me? _That was all you, dipshit!"_

Okay, you know what? Just leave me here. Go away.

Daimio bent down and started to pick me up off the sidewalk . . . . then I was hit with an explosion of pain worse than what I felt before.

_OH FUCKING GOD JUST PUT ME DOWN DON'T TOUCH ME DON'T TOUCH ME!_

By the way he just jumped back and how everyone's looking at me, I probably just screamed that last sentence to the heavens. Fantastic.

Jessi pulled out her cell phone and said, "That's it. I'm calling an ambulance."

Dammit!

* * *

"Alright, I'm not gonna lie - I've never seen drugs do this to someone's body."

The nurse that was standing next to the doctor was glaring at me like I was the Antichrist, and that she might catch my stupidity if she stood too close.

I was curled into a ball on the emergency room bed and trying to fight off the feeling of wanting to puke. The lights were too damn bright, the bed sheets were too rough, and the help was too . . . mean. And I mean _mean. _Everyone and their mother is lecturing me. Let me tell ya, it's getting real old, real fast.

I'm saying it right now, as a matter of public record: I am _nevereverever_ going to do that again. On my own future grave.

"Whatever you injected yourself with is literally eating away at your tissue," the doctor went on. On any other day, I would've let myself enjoy the doctor's light accent, or his short-and-fluffy blond hair. But today, of all days - with my tissue being eaten away at and _Ben Daimio_ being her - I couldn't. Damn. Will I _ever_ stop bring punished?

"So what are you gonna do about it?" Daimio asked tersely. Poor, poor Ben - he somehow stalked me to my place and now has to deal with all this shit in an emergency room, where all the people lecturing me on drug use are staring at him. Oh boo _fucking_ hoo.

"Well, we have a procedure that will basically take all the impurities from her blood," Doctor Dude explained. "It'll take her blood in one way, clean it, and send it back into her body. It takes several hours . . . and is extremely painful."

"Do it," Daimio said without hesitation.

Uh, I'm sorry, but aren't I here? Can't I make my _own_ fucking decisions?

"I'll get the machine prepped," was all the doctor said, and left the room.

Fan-_fucking-_tastic.

* * *

Heh, I thought I was in pain earlier? Please. That was _nothing_ compared to this new pain.

I screamed. I'm not afraid to admit it. Not only had I been dealing with some pretty amazing pain for the past handful of hours, but I was still tired from running six miles straight. It burned, it sizzled, it was like be filleted while someone was coating my insides with hot sauce made with the hottest peppers known to man.

Thank the Lord no one was in there with me. At the doctor's request, Daimio left to go sit with Jesse in the waiting room. Ha ha ha, I get to keep my pain all to myself.

Man, if there was any time I could black out, it would be now. But _nooooooooo_, I get to be conscious for the _whole thing_.

Blehg.

You know, this gives me opportune time just to sit and _think_. (If I can get around the pain, that is.) I never get to do that anymore.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

But now I can't think of anything to think about. That _always_ happen. When I want to sit and think, I don't have the time. When I _do_ have time, then I'm either indisposed of or in pain. Happens _every time._

You know what? I feel like a broken record. (Figuratively, of course - literally, I feel like a Mento that was dropped in Diet Coke). I keep repeating the same cycle over and over. And the cycle is slowly descending into what we can call ROCK BOTTOM.

You know what? I don't want to think anymore. I want to sleep.

* * *

Several hours later, I was sitting, dazed, in a wheelchair while Doctor Dude investigated the next dilemma: how I was going to get home.

"You have someone to drive you?" he asked. "I don't want you driving."

"No," I muttered. "Don't even have a car."

Jessi sighed and folded her arms. "If I have to, I can call my mom," she said, and looked over at the wall clock. "It's already five in the morning. She'd be awake. Have to deliver newspapers at all."

"Don't have to," Daimio said, looking slightly smug. "I'll drive."

And he pulled out the keys to the car I "borrowed" from Offuit AFB.

Damn.

* * *

**Wow . . . yeah. Yep. |: no reviews for the last two chappies? D: sadface. **

**Alright, I'm working not only on chapter 16, but chapter 9 of Papercut, for those who dig that story. I probably won't get either of those too soon because I have graduation crap to deal with. but I'd be ever so grateful if SOMEONE left a review . . . . please?**

**~Izzy  
**


	16. With You

Chapter 16: With You

_Hit you and you hit me back  
We fall to the floor  
The rest of the day stands still  
Fine line between this and that,  
When things go wrong,  
I pretend that the past isn't real  
I'm trapped in this memory, and I'm left in the wake  
Of a mistake; slow to react  
So even when you're close to me,  
I feel so distant,  
And I can't bring you back  
_~Linkin Park

* * *

The ride home _sucked. _I'm bloody serious. Even Jessi was quiet, and that was a sure sign that this ride was on the road paved with good intentions.

"Where d'ya live, kid?" Daimio grunted from behind the wheel. Jessi was in the backseat, and I was seat-belted into the front.

"Just down the street, sir," she said passively, looking out the window and idly scratching at her skin. I wanted to tell her to stop, but I didn't. She explained it to me once.

"_I get stuck in my own head sometimes, and . . . and I go to bad places sometimes. When I have something in my hands - knitting, my bracelets, or even my own skin, it brings me back from . . . where I go."_

"Right there, next to those signs," she added.

Daimio dropped her off, and she walked up to her darkened house without so much as a backwards glance.

Now it was just me and him. Thank you, awkward silence, for the gift of many, many gay babies.

"So, you have anything to say for yourself?" he asked finally.

"Yeah," I said. "When you drop me off at home, I'm gonna sleep like no tomorrow." Hint, hint hint. As in, _you don't come in my house, dude._

He stomped on the brake so hard my head would've hit the dash if I hadn't been wearing a seat belt. People behind us honked at us, some driving around us and yelling at us through the window.

"_That's all you have to say?"_ he growled.

I shrugged, "Yeeeeeaaaaaaah . . . ."

"You almost fucking _die,_" he said slowly, "and the only thing on _your_ mind is _sleep?"_

"Yeah, man," I said. "You got a memory problem in your old age?"

Now, I totally meant that as a joke. But the way he glared at me made me know that he didn't take it as one.

"Whatever," he snapped, and floored it.

God. I _swear._

* * *

Home. Oh, how I missed it. But there were some subtle . . . changes . . . from the last time I was here. First of all, the place was a mess. The dishes were piled up, the couch cushions were askew, and the table was overturned.

Wow, what a party. Wish I could _remember_ it.

"Holy _shit,_ you must've been _out_ of it," he muttered. He threw the cushions back on the couch with brutal force and sat down. Despite my numerous hints of not wanting him in my apartment, he came in anyway. Jerk.

"Uh, hello, who says you get to put _your_ ass on _my_ couch?" I snapped, viciously turning the coffee table back over. I'm sayin' right now that there was _no way_ I was sleeping with _him_ in my apartment. I can't even sleep if the apartment is too much of a mess.

"Oh, excuse me, I'll just go back to my room at the Double Tree," he retorted dryly.

I rolled my eyes and walked into the kitchen. The dishes were going to bother me all night (or should I say day?), so I was getting those done while I still could.

"How'd you even find me, anyways?" I called over my shoulder while I started the dishes.

"Abe told me."

I froze.

_No._

He _didn't._

Did he . . . tell Abe . . . ?

Oh GOD.

Okay, Jink, play it cool. You act angry, you're gonna _get_ angry from Scarface over there.

I turned off the faucet and went back into the living room. "You talked to Abe?" I asked in what I hoped was a nonchalant manor.

"Yeah - found me in the woods couple days after you did," he shrugged.

"And he just randomly coughed up my address?"

"No, I asked him."

"He ask why?"

"Didn't have to. I showed him the little note you left with your phone number."

Well, shit. It answered my question, though.

But he wasn't done there. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the scrap of paper I had written on. It was crumpled and somewhat faded, but the writing was still legible. Didn't matter, of course - I knew what I wrote.

_402-556-9353 - - kissing you was better than I thought it'd be_

What? Don't look at me like that. I wanted him to have something to think about when I wasn't gracing him with my presence. And I was pissed. Don't get mad at me for being ornery.

"You're one confusing SOB, kid," he stated. "Don't know which side of the line you fall on."

"Fall on my own side," I quipped. "The one with the most Dr. Pepper."

"You're pushing and shoving at the same time," he added. "You try to kick my ass one minute, and then _kiss_ me the next."

I stayed quiet. It was true. As much as I hated it, it was true.

"I just want to know where we stand with each other," he said finally.

With a sigh, I walked over the couch, replaced a cushion, and collapsed on it. "We're adults," I said. "We can talk this through."

"Fine," he said. "You first."

Well, hell's bells. I can't do this. Man. I don't get myself. sometimes, so why did I have to explain it? I mean, I'm _cool_ with this whole . . . thing . . . but then _he_ starts having an attitude, and then _I _get an attitude, and then all hell breaks loose.

Yes, that's a great explanation. "It's your fault." That'l get my ass kicked before anything else.

So what do I say?

"I dunno," I shrugged. "Maybe we're both too pigheaded to see reason." There, that was plausible. I think.

"Or, y'know, you're just damn annoying," he retorted.

"Go to hell," I scoffed. I got up and went back to the sink of luke-warm water and started scrubbing with ferocity.

By the time I was done with one load of dishes, he had gotten up and was leaning against the counter, watching me wash. Weird.

"Well, we can agree on a few things, right?" he said. "You _obviously_ care."

"Sure," I shrugged. "And _you_ obviously don't."

"Don't put words in my mouth!" he snapped. "I _never said that._"

"Oh, you don't have to," I retorted. "You've made it perfectly clear."

"Don't pin that bullshit on me," he said lowly. "I only act the way _any normal_ person would _act_ towards you and your shit!"

That's it - I had it. I slammed my hands in the soapy water and turned on him, pointing one sudsy hand at the front door. "Get the fuck out," I said.

"_No."_

I rubbed my soapy hands on my jeans and stalked out of the kitchen, heading towards my room. I was going to lock myself in there to get some _peace._ And if it came down to it, I know for a fact that I had several hunting knives and a .45 hidden somewhere in there.

"Where the_ hell _you think you're _goin'?_" he snapped, close behind.

"Away from _you. _I already told you to get the fuck out, and since you won't _listen-"_

"Like _hell."_ He grabbed my shoulder and forcefully turned me to face him. "This is _all _about _you. _When _you're_ too scared to face something, you _run_ from it."

"Don't go there," I warned lowly.

"You didn't like it at the Bureau? You ran away. You don't like dealing with . . . with _this,_ you run away. Hell, you even tried to run away from your own fucking _life_ after _Roger_ kicked it." Wow, he was really on a roll with this.

"Don't _go_ there," I warned again through gritted teeth.

"You ain't anything but a _cowar-"_

Then I hit him. Like, totally frickin' left-hook-outta-nowhere hit him. And it didn't even phase him.

"You feel better?" he asked after a long silence, absentmindedly rubbing his cheek.

After a moment, I nodded.

"Good," he said.

Then he hit me back.

I fell to the ground in a haze of black stars. It took me a second to realize I was _on_ the floor, instead of on the cloud I felt like I was on. I rolled over and sat up slowly, moving my jaw around slowly. My mouth tasted like blood, and something felt . . . off. I figured it out when I saw something on the floor. I picked it up, stood, and held it so Daimio could see it.

"You . . . knocked out . . . a tooth," I said lamely. The coppery taste of blood seemed to be overtaking my mouth, and I spat this large wad of crimson onto the floor. By the looks of it, the one knocked loose was one of my canines - you know, the one so sharp people thought I was a vampire? Yeah, now it was siting in my open palm.

He didn't say anything, but his eyes widened a bit, like he wasn't expecting a tooth to come flying out of my mouth.

"You . . . you . . . ." I struggled to say. I clenched my teeth despite the paralyzing pain, threw the fallen tooth to the side, and delivered a mule kick to his sternum.

"_You bastard!"_ I shouted as I kicked. He flew backwards and crashed into my coffee table. "_God! __**I'm**__ not the one who disappeared for eight years! _And you're calling _me_ a _coward?"_

He got up from the floor, wheezing. There was no saving the coffee table. And I actually _liked_ that particular piece of furniture.

He glared at me through his wheezing. One hand was over the spot where my foot landed, the other bracing himself against the wall so he could stand up.

"Yeah, I lied," I snapped. "_Now_ I'm good."

With deathly anger in his eyes, he jumped me. I wasn't expecting it, so we landed heavily on the floor - namely, my face. _Ow_. He managed to get me in a headlock and pin my arms to my sides. This is a clear lesson, boys and girls: if you don't keep working out and then do random drugs your friends have, you're gonna get your ass kicked by someone bigger than you, and there's not a thing you can do about it.

He had me pinned. Not only that, he had me by my throat AND had his full weight on me. Talk about a sandwich here, folks. I could barely breathe. I managed to tap the ground and choke out, _"I give! I give!" _with the last breath I had.

He let me loose, and I rolled away from him and gasped. Man, he _really_ had a tight grip. I was seriously close to blacking out.

He glared for a second, but started to look worried when I wasn't getting up. "Kid?" he asked. "You okay?" He stood up and over me.

"_Yeah,"_ I gasped. "_Just . . . . a little . . . . light-headed . . . . give me . . . . a second . . . and I'll kick . . . . your ass . . . some more . . . . ."_ I turned my head and spat out more blood. Wow, the hole where that tooth had been was bleeding a lot . . .

He bent down to try and help me up, but I shoved his hands away and stood up slowly on my own. My head was swimming, my limbs felt heavy, and I was madder than hell. But I was too tired to do anything about it.

I staggered past him and into the bathroom before he could say anything. When I saw my reflection, I got all pissed all over again.

I was right - my right canine incisor was gone, replaced by a bloody hole. And my jaw had a beautiful smear of a bruise forming. Fantastic. Bloody _fantastic._

God, I felt so groady. I wanted a shower. But thanks to Mr. I-Come-Into-People's-Houses-And-Knock-Out-Their-Teeth, I couldn't - he'd knock down my door once I got all soaped up. And who _knows_ where that would lead to.

No, I was too damn tired to do _anything_ along those lines. In fact, the only thing I wasn't too tired to do was sleep.

I slammed open the bathroom door and stalked to my bedroom. Daimio wasn't expecting me, so he couldn't get to me fast enough, and I managed to get the door shut between us.

I had enough of this. I had enough of _everything._ So I'm taking a nap.

* * *

**Alright, so I was bored. It was no contest between writing or cleaning my room. And it's hot, and i'm tired, and . . . . yeah. Hope y'all enjoy it. **

**Oh, and LilixTheKitsune I'm glad I got you addicted to Repo! It's a beautiful thing.**

**I'll see everyone next time I post. Till then, farewell.**

**~Izzy  
**


	17. Slowly, Through A Vector

**Oh my God . . . this was so awkward to write!**

* * *

Chapter 17: Slowly, Through A Vector

_(Ha ha ha)  
Show me what you got!  
_~Say Anything

* * *

Of course, I didn't sleep. I did everything: I changed into comfy clothes, I counted sheep, I listened to music . . . Sigh. My internal clock wouldn't let me fall asleep, I guess. So I lay there for what felt like eternity, just staring at the ceiling.

Why? Of all the people I could "fall" for, why'd if have to be _him?_ Is someone playing a cruel joke on me? Is it that fucking _bitch_ Elektra? I haven't heard from her in ages. Where the hell _is_ she, anyways?

"Well, maybe she's as tired of you as you are of her," Marie said.

I jumped and screamed (just a little!), and threw a ball of electricity at her. She was standing in the corner of the room, and easily ducked the weak shot I threw at her.

"What the _fuck?"_ I shouted at her.

"Kate told me to keep an eye on you," she shrugged. "Best way to do it is be a ninja, right?" She shook her head in mock sadness. "Wait until she finds out that you just went to the hospital because you OD'd on random _crap_ your friends had . . ."

"How the hell'd you get in meh _house?"_ I demanded. "Get _out!"_

Wow. I've been saying that a lot lately. Anyone else notice that? I am _not_ having a good week here.

. . . . and how did _she_ know what I was thinking?

"He's right, you know," she said conversationally, coming over to the bed and sitting down. "You _are_ a coward who runs from things. You think that you can close the door on things and they'll go away." She pointed at the door. "Case in point."

"That's so I _stopped_ at _kicking_ the guy," I growled. I was gonna lose it.

"You can't run from yourself," she reminded me.

"I'm _not."_

"And you can't run from what you've done to yourself, either." Here, Marie smiled ruefully. "No matter what you do, everyone will always remember you as the girl who slit her wrists. How do you feel about that?"

Correction: I was loosing it. I could _feel_ it. Lights were spastically blinking. Sparks were physically blipping in and out of existence in the space around me. I felt more alive than I had in _years. _And more importantly, I felt . . . I felt . . .

_Powerful._

I already told you that I had taken to mistrusting my powers. I stopped relying on them like I used to. But now . . . woo boy, I was getting the hang of it again!

And Marie just sat on the edge of my bed, like I was nothing but a spider in the corner she was going to smash.

Huh. Let's see if she keeps looking at me like that once I lose it all over her face . . . !

* * *

Alright, good news? Marie's gone, and I think Daimio's asleep because my door has not been knocked down.

Bad news? I think I missed - the window is open when it wasn't earlier, and I thought I heard something out there running. And now the lower edge of my bed and the floor right there have a huge scorch mark.

But I don't care. I feel pretty good right now. And hungry; I'm _really_ hungry.

I open the door and step out into the small hallway, a knife held lazily in my hand. So far, all quiet on the home front. If he comes out of nowhere and even _tries_ to touch me, he's going to get emasculated, Jink style.

I inched out into the living room, and low and behold, Daimio's conked out on the couch. Poor bastard must be tired after knocking out my teeth. It was later than I thought it was, because the sun was full-on shining and birds were chirping in their annoying way. All in all, it proved that it was going to be one of those annoyingly nice days that requires you to put on sunblock if you were to be going outside. Which I wasn't. I'm not a sunny person, if you didn't know. I prefer rain.

But anyways, I was home in a messy house and PJ's with a zonked out rock of a man on my couch (he may be the object of my affection, but he _is_ a man, and has proved already that he could take me in a (cough unfair cough) fight). You know what _that_ means.

I had to _clean._

I started with the living room, where my little iPod docker/radio sat (don't worry, I'm not an idiot - I had it turned low). I got started fast enough, thanks to the rocking turnes, so I could turn my attention to the kitchen.

The water I had started had drained from the sink due to the cheap drain plug I bought, so I had to start new water. I know what you're thinking: "Where's the dish washer?" And the answer is: in Sears, where it costs some five hundred dollars I had to use for food, Dr. Pepper, and electricity.

"_Suppose that I miss you . . .  
Suppose that I care . . .  
And suppose that I spend all my nights running scared.  
And suppose that I was never there . . ._

_And my eyes! I'm screaming for  
For a sight of you!  
And tonight I'm dreaming  
of all the things that we've been through.  
And I can't hold on to you . . .  
So I guess I'll be lonely too . . ."_

God, I'm in a love/hate relationship with this song. The first time I heard it, I wanted to cry. Now half the lyrics are hitting too close to home. Sadly, my hands are soapy so I can't change it. And after a few moments, I find that I'm singing along with it.

"_Suppose we were happy.  
Suppose it was true.  
And suppose there were cold nights  
But we somehow made it through.  
And suppose I'm nothing without you . . ."_

"_And my eyes are screaming  
For a sight of you  
And tonight, I'm dreaming  
Of all the things that we've been through.  
And I can't hold on to you . . .  
So I guess I'll be lonely too . . ._

"_Slow way down.  
This break down's  
eating me alive.  
And I'm tired.  
This fight is  
Fighting to survive . . ._

_So tell me a secret.  
(I wanted it)  
Tell me a story  
(I need it)  
I'll listen intentively . . ."_

By now, I could see Daimio starting to wake up out of the corner of my eye.

"_I'll stay awake all night  
Not even a whisper  
(So lonely)  
There's nothing left in me  
(Please help me)  
Not even my body  
Is strong enough to fight  
(Let's make this right)  
Please help me make this right . . . ."_

Now he was slowly figuring out that I was in the kitchen, washing dishes, and singing. Heh - funny thing to wake up to. But trust me, if you woke up on the couch to _me_ in the kitchen, doin' the dishes, you'd act as wary as he did. Especially since knives were all-too-easily within reach.

"_Suppose that I was wrong.  
Suppose you were here.  
Suppose that I reached out and caught your tears . . .  
And suppose . . .  
This fight just disappeared . . ._

_And my eyes are screaming  
For a sight of you.  
And tonight, I'm dreaming  
Of all the things that we've been through  
And I can't hold on to you . . .  
So I guess I'll be lonely too . . .  
But I'd rather be here with you."_

God, this is awkward. I smirk to myself and think, _Yeah, but this is some pretty handsome awkward for just waking up._

No, Jink! Focus! No quotes from The Used while we're doing dishes! Especially when Daimio's on the co-

Wait. I looked over, and Daimio was no longer on the couch. He was nowhere.

_Shit._

I stopped mid-load and pulled the knife out of the waistband of my boxers (yeah, those comfy clothes I mentioned? A pair of boxers and a tank top. _It was hot in my room! Sheesh!_). He was right here. I could sense it. I could practically _taste_ it (not in a nasty way, you pervs!).

Suddenly, my knife was gone. "I _knew_ you had somethin' on ya, kid," I heard right behind me.

I whirled, and sighed with relief. So he wasn't coming back to finish me off. He was just standing there, fiddling with my knife and watching me. To see what I'd do next, I suppose.

"Jesus rollerblading Christ!" I snapped, trying to keep a straight face (and failing for the most part). "You scared the _shit_ out of me!" I was laughing a little. So sue me.

"One thing I finally did right, huh?" he retorted, tossing the knife on the kitchen table.

I sighed and went back to finishing the last load of dishes (I swear to God, every single _dish_ was dirty. It was freaking annoying). As I did, I noticed something for the first time: that cross I had tossed into the sink all that time ago was hanging back up. Only now, someone had carved "WWJD" on it. No doubt, on the reverse I'd find Jessi's "X" to prove that she did it.

At that moment, it didn't stand for "What Would Jesus Do?". It stood for "What Will Jink Do?" I could run, and hide, like I usually do. Or I could stay and stick it out, and hopefully clear up this whole darn mess.

God. _God._

"Hope you enjoyed your stint on my couch," I said. "I know for a fact that it is one _hell_ of a comfy couch."

"Tell that to my back," he retorted.

"Well, since you're done with your stint on my couch . . ." I trailed off, reaching into the cupboard to my right. I pulled out a large jar filled nearly to the brim with change. "You can count a couple bucks out of _this_."

"_What?"_ he demanded in disbelief. Don't know why, though - all the quarters were on top. How hard is it to count out five bucks in quarters? Five-year-olds do it all the time.

"Well, I'm close to being out of food and Dr. Pepper, so I figured, "Hey, why not go to Subway or some weird shit like that and get breakfast?"" I explained. "And _this_ is all the money currently in my possession at the moment."

I didn't mention my BPRD-issue credit card was in my wallet in a pair of pants somewhere in my room, but I didn't know if I could use it or not. Really, since I totally manhandled Manning the way I did, he probably discontinued any account with my name on it. Man, did I totally screw myself or what?

With reluctance, he grabbed the jar and unceremoniously dumped it onto the kitchen table. "How the fuck did you manage to come by _this_ much _change?"_ he groused, "Panhandling?"

"Oh hell no," I said quickly. "My stunt at the mall put a stop to that _real_ fast."

Oh man, that's actually a really funny story. A couple years ago, me, Jessi, Rayne, and Zora sat in this huge elevator at the mall, just chillin', and all these people kept throwing change at us because they thought we were (pretty damn brave) hobos. We got at least twenty bucks in change before we got busted by the cops. Thank God we only got off with a warning - _and _we got to keep the change.

"This change came from random purchases," I said. "I throw the change in the jar, and when it gets full, or almost full, I cash in and buy something cool." I shrugged. "And every now and then, I skim off the top and buy breakfast."

He kept grumbling about it, so I sat down next to him and started counting quarters. "Or, y'know, if counting change is a _hassle,_" I stated, "_I_ can count change and go to breakfast, and _you_ can go forage the fridge. I think I still have some ketchup. Add hot water, you have tomato soup."

He shot me a glare that was meant to be weathering, but I just stuck my tongue out at him and kept counting.

Just as I thought, it took us less than five minutes to count up fifteen dollars in change. But even then, we barely made a dent in the pile of change on the table. I folded my arms and looked over at him before motioning towards the pile of money. "Well?"

"I dumped it, you clean it," he said quickly, snatching up the counted change and starting for the door.

"NUH-UH MAN!" I shouted after him. "I DON'T PLAY THAT!"

"I'll be back!" And the door slammed behind him.

Bastard. Probably just ran off. Doesn't want to deal with me. Fine. He can be that way. I started cleaning up the change and started paying more attention to the music playing.

"_It kills me not to know this  
But I've all but just forgotten.  
What the color of her eyes were  
And her scars or how she got them.  
As the telling signs of age rain down  
A single tear is droppin'  
Down the valleys of an aging face  
That this world has forgotten . . ."_

Oh God, really? I totally didn't feel Rise Against right now. I got up and pressed a couple buttons.

"_What if I lived without you?  
What if I loved without you?  
What if I died without you?  
I could not go on . . ."_

Alright, I'm feeling _this_ song even less. More buttons were pushed.

"_I know you love how I make it all go away . . .  
All the joy, all the pain, all the thoughts in your brain . . .  
For the price of your soul, I will hold your heart in my talons.  
For three summers straight, you've been my sweet arm candy.  
And no one - NO ONE - will take you away from me . . ."_

_There_ we go. Now that's what I'm talking about!

I don't want to tell you what happened next, but I will anyways, because that's what storytellers do, aye? They tell the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

I started dancing.

I mean, I don't know if you woulda _called_ it dancing, but I was doing little jumps and leaps and and turns and that sorta crap. We all dance like this; where we think that we're all fantastic prima ballerinas but we all just look like we're drunk. I'm sorry to have graced the world with my horrible dancing.

But then I took it a step farther. I started singing and pretending I was singing to a crowd and _really_ hamming it up. Thank God I was alone - I could've killed babies with how horrible this all looked.

"_If only you'd start breathin'!  
I'd court you exclusively!  
With my shovel I'm pounding earth until  
Suddenly I see._

_You awake from the dirt and the grime.  
Stretch your fractured, pretzled spine.  
Out to take your revenge for the crime.  
Filled with fire  
And finally mine!"_

Oh man. This was getting ugly. I wasn't just in the kitchen anymore - I was dancing through the living room, too. Just dance dance dancing away. But hey, I was having fun, and that was all that mattered, right?

But I'm saying this right now, as a matter of public record, that I did _not_ hear the door open and close. So I just kept singing and dancing.

"_If only you could see me!  
We'd dance like a heart attack.  
With a wail you'd let them know  
You're furious; you're back!_

_You awake from the dirt and the grime.  
Stretch your fractured, pretzled spine.  
Out to take your revenge for the crime.  
Filled with fire  
And finally mine!_

_You awake from the grave that he dug,  
Pulsing, boiling, angry blood!  
Well aware that I'm falling in love.  
Filled with fire and drinking gasoline . . .  
To make it go faster . . ."_

Just as I was turning around in a grandois move, I saw Daimio standing in front of the door, a take-out bag in his hand. Oops.

"Uh . . . you saw that, didin't you?" I said slowly.

"Yep."

"All of it?"

"Yep."

"Oh . . . _shit._"

"No, don't worry about it," he said. "You dance good, kid."

Oh, well, that look of disbelief and confusion on your face begs to differ, but thanks for playing. Well, there went my self-respect for the day. But I still had one trick up my sleeve.

"Fine. Wanna dance?"

"_What?"_ Oh, the look on his face was priceless. Imagine a look filled with confusion, a smidgen of anger, and underlying tone of want, and a small bit of "What the hell?". It's beautiful, and I wish I had a camera.

"You heard me." I walked up to him, grabbed the bag of food, and set it on the kitchen table. "Dance with me. Show me what you got, twinkle toes."

"Uh, I don't dance," he said.

"Oh please!" I retorted. I dashed into the kitchen and changed the song playing with lightning speed. Instantly, "Sway" started up. "It's Buble. _Everyone_ dances to Buble."

"I'm not dancing," he said again.

"Yes, you are," I insisted. I grabbed his hands and pulled him more into the open floor of the living room. "If _I_ can dance and act like a fool, so can _you._"

Then I did my best "pitiful-puppy-dog-eyes", which was (finally!) enough for him to sigh and draw out a "_Fiiiiiine . . . ."_

Score!

"Well, you wanna go old school or new school on this song's ass?" I asked. I got nothing but a blank look. I smirked, and let go of one of his hands to put it on his shoulder. "Old school it is, then."

(of course, as a reference to all you people, the only way to dance Buble _is_ old school.)

It started off simple at first - just simple swaying. Which suited the song just fine.

"_When marimba rhythm starts to play,  
Dance with me,  
Make me sway . . ."_

I wish I could tell you more happened. Oh, we suddenly started dancing like professionals, all the while professing deep and undying love for each other! Oh yeah. Not even in _his_ dreams.

No, see, nothing major happened - we just kept mostly swaying, not talking - until the next song.

"_C'mon, feel the noise!  
Girls, rock your boys!  
We're gettin' wild, wild, wild!  
Wild, wild, wild!"_

"You have Motley Crüe?" he asked, sounding surprised.

"Hell yeah I got Motley Crüe!" I said. "Dude, who _doesn't?"_

"I just never took you as a classic rock fan." A simple turn started us on the track of just spinning in circles. I thought I was going to get dizzy after a couple rotations, but I didn't. I barely noticed that we were moving.

"I'm a fan of practically _anything._"

"No, really? I thought you only liked the crap telling you to kill yourself."

"Stuff it, Cap'n Zombie. At least I'm not some _country_ fanatic like you."

"_That's_ not nice."

"_I'm_ not nice in general."

"Don't say that." By now, we'd stopped moving, but we haven't moved away from each other. If anything, we had moved closer. "You can be nice when you want to."

"Key phrase: when I _want_ to."

"You're nice enough."

"Yeah, but is that _good_ enough?"

Alright, it's not my imagination: he's moving closer. And I'm finding that I really, _really_ want him to.

"It's fine."

And just I start to lean into _him,_ Jessi opens the front door. The sound of the door opening had made us both jump from each other, and Jessi gave me a sly look.

After a long silence between the three of us, I sighed. "Jessi, you have the _worst_ timing. Ever."

* * *

**IZZY: *faints from writing that semi-fluffy scene*  
ABE: *sneaks into the room and takes laptop*  
IZZY: *wakes up* OI! GET BACK WITH THAT!  
ABE: THIS STORY IS BLASPHEMY! *keeps running*  
IZZY: *sigh* I ain't getting it back, am I?**

**LIST OF SONGS FOR THE CHAPTER:  
SUPPOSE by SECONDHAND SERENADE  
SAVIOR by RISE AGAINST  
WITHOUT YOU by THREE DAYS GRACE  
SKINNY MEAN MAN by SAY ANYTHING  
and GIRLS ROCK YOUR BOYS by MOTELY CRÜE**

**You guys have a nice night.**

~Izzy**  
**


	18. You're Gonna Go Far, Kid

Chapter 18 – You're Gonna Go Far, Kid

_Nice work ya did.  
You're gonna go far, kid . . . .  
And when you walk away, nothing more to say,  
See the lightning in your eyes,  
See 'em running  
For their lives!_  
~The Offspring

* * *

"That's my thing," Jessi shrugged, dropping the bags I suddenly saw she was carrying. "I'm one of those people with _amazingly_ bad timing." Her grin looked like it was going to fall off her face, but then it fell, and she narrowed her eyes. She stalked up to me, and without hesitation, grabbed my chin to tilt my head to the side.

"_Dude!"_ She even pulled at my bottom lip to easily reveal what was blatantly clear. "What the fuck happened to your _face?"_ She glared at Daimio, and went up to him and smacked his shoulder. "You _ass!_ You don't go around hitting girls!"

Well, he really wasn't expecting Jessi to just slap him like that. She was shorter than me by a good five inches (which meant he had a good foot if not more on the teenager), so he was staring at her with the same incredulity that eagles might stare at hummingbirds when those fuzzy tennis balls attack.

"She _started_ it!" was his clever response.

"Then that shoulda _ended_ it!" Jessi retorted. Another smack to his shoulder. "The _hell_ is wrong with you?"

Ooh, another one of those withering looks. Instead of flinching, Jessi turned to me and asked, "Can I talk to you for a second?" After a quick glance at Daimio, she added, "Alone?"

She stalked off into the kitchen and I followed after shooting a quick look at Daimio. He still looked pretty pissed.

"Yeah?" I said as I went into the kitchen.

"Dude, _really?"_ she demanded. "Him? Of all the people to toss your affections on, it had to be Scarface over there?"

"Hey, no need for hurtful words!" I snapped. "And . . . yeah, I guess." I sighed and rolled my eyes. "It's complicated. Like, so complicated, it's giving me a _headache,_ it's complicated."

"Whatever, but y'know, if you guys beat on each other, it's not a healthy relationship," she griped. "I learned that at school, and you should know that, being the adult here."

"I thought he was dead for the past eight years, and I can kick his ass on a good day," I said. "And since when have been in a position to _have_ a healthy relationship?"

After a moment of silence, Jessi shrugged. "Whatever," she said again. "Just know that if he beats you again, I'm kicking his ass with the Widowmaker."

"The _what?"_

"Oh, I got this steel bat and wrote "THE WIDOWMAKER" on it so I can beat up people and things that try to eat me."

Alright, that's just a _little_ weird for the girl to be doing. "Who's going to be eating you?" I asked slowly.

She looked at me like I was crazy. "Dude, you haven't _heard?"_

"Heard what?" Oh crap. I have the _worst_ feeling about this.

"Alright, so there's these creepy-looking pale monsters _everywhere,_ eating people. And they can have the shape of people, until they turn into these monster huge things that destroy _everything._" She leaned in close like she was telling a huge secret. "And the worst part is that they've been around for more than fifteen years and the government was fighting them on the sly and not _telling_ us."

Oh. So the frog problem has escalated just a _tiny_ bit. Thanks for telling me, Kate; Manning.

"But there's this chick named Fenix down in Texas," Jessi went on, "who can predict when and where the freaky monsters attack, so I'm heading down there to save my ass."

"_What?"_ There's someone out there that can fight the frogs better than _I_ can? Where the hell is she so I can give her a freakin' medal? "What about _me?_"

"What _about_ you?" she snapped. "_You're_ busy macking on Mr. StudMuffin in there-"

"Not really, all too much," I said quickly. "You know how it is. Bros before hoes, right?" Along as she doesn't call me on it in front of Daimio, we're good. Because I don't know who I'd pick if it came down between the two of them.

"That only works with guys, Jink."

"Well, you know what I mean! The girl version of that!"

"Uh . . . breasties before testes?"

"Alright, that's just a little weird, but yeah." I reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. "Dude, you know I got you back, and possibly more firepower than the police force. You can count on me to save your ass."

"Really?" she asked.

"Hell yes." A pause, and I added, "But you get no breakfast foods."

"_But why?"_

"You ruined the moment." I grabbed the bag of food and took it with me as I walked back into the living room. "People who ruin the moment don't get breakfast nummies."

Daimio had seated himself on the couch and was pretending to watch TV, but I could tell he had been trying to listen in on us. Call it woman's intuition, I call it "I-Saw-Him-Walking-Back-To-The-Couch-Real-Fast"-ness.

Instead of saying anything about that, I just toss him the bag of food and say, "No feeding the Jessi please. She's on punishment."

"For _what?"_ he asked, opening the bag and pulling out a breakfast burrito.

"Ruining the touching moment we were having," I said, wearing my most serious face.

He just rolled his eyes as I sat on the couch next to him.

"Oh, was it touching in a One-Republic way?" Jessi asked wickedly, seating herself on the floor. The she warbled out, "_All the right moves in all the right places . . . Yeah, we're goin' down . . ."_ Her grin got bigger when she added, "Or was it a Panic! At The Disco moment? _I've got more wit, a better kiss, a hotter touch, a better fuck than any boy you'll ever meet, sweetie, you had me . . ."_

I swear to God, Daimio nearly choked on his breakfast burrito, and I turned a shade of red that was cousin to our favorite fruit, the tomato.

Jessi just laughed.

"I'm gonna throw you to the wolves, girly," I threatened. "Just _watch."_

"I'd like to see you try, _friend._"

I just sighed and grabbed my own breakfast burrito. When I saw Jessi eyeing it, I made a show of taking a large bite of it. And enjoying it. Oh God yes, I was going to torture her.

"You're _killin'_ me, Smalls!" she groaned, falling backwards onto the floor.

"And I'm lovin' every minute of it," I grinned through a mouthful of food.

Jessi turned her attention to Daimio and asked, "Is she this mean to you?"

He replied with (of course), "Why don'tcha ask the foot-shaped bruise on my _chest."_

"No, I think I'll leave that to _Jink,_ thank you."

I blushed again. God, with all this blood in my head, I might actually pass out. What a thing.

"But she doesn't torture you uselessly, right?" Jessi pressed her question.

He shot me a look. I shot him a look. Neither of us said anything.

"Oh. I see." Jessi sat up again, crossing her arms. "So she's only mean to the people she hasn't _slept_ with, is that it?"

The light bulb in the living room burst. And the one in the kitchen started flickering. I don't know what was going on to the others in the house, but I could see those two bulbs, and all the electrical appliances in the kitchen were going wild. Daimio was already up on his feet (ready to beat the _shit_ outta her), but I stood and held up an arm to stop him.

"_Get. Out."_

Jessi paused, giving me an incredulous look. "Wait – what?"

"_Get the fuck. OUT!" _I bellowed (quite mean of me, no?). _"You will NOT disrespect me or others in MY house! I refuse to let it happen!"_

"But . . ." she started, standing up, "But what . . . what about bros before hoes? Chicks before dicks?"

I was still fucking _pissed_ at her, but she had a bit of a point. I crossed my arms and glared at her while saying (quite a bit softer than before), "Of all the things Cap'n Zombie's done to me, he _hasn't_ disrespected my _friends_ or _me_ in front of others. You have done all the above." There, Daimio – go ahead and let your ego monster purr.

"Whoa, wait a second – he's a _zombie?"_ Her eyes were bugging out of her head.

"God, Jessi, just get out. Like right fucking now." I was letting my anger show a bit more, and the light bulb in the kitchen burst. Everything electric was starting to slow down a bit, though, for which I was grateful. (And really, appliances going crazy? That's a total first for me. Man, I must be _pissed!)_

"But what about the monsters?" she demanded. "You _said_ you'd _protect_ me!"

Once again, she had a point. My body sagged in defeat, and everything stopped spazzing. "Look, just go _home_ for a bit. You stick around, I don't know what might happen."

Jessi crossed her arms and looked down at the ground as she mumbled something.

"I'm sorry?"

She looked up at me, and I could see the look of total devastation in her eyes. "I said, I _can't_ go home." When I just stared at her, she went on: "My mom kicked me out this morning because I was gone all night and she saw a bit of hash in my pocket. Told me not to come home. I grabbed what I could grab and spend the morning walking here."

"So you made up the whole story about the frogs so you wouldn't have to tell me." It wasn't really a question, but she nodded anyways. "Well . . . _shit."_ I put one hand on my hip and ran my hand through my hair. I looked over at Daimio, and he already had this _look_ on his face that said, "Shit, she's falling for the sob story," which I guess I was.

What could I say? "Get outta my house, you back-talking vagabond!" Yeah, that don't work well with teenage girls. But, of course, I couldn't really call her a teenager anymore, could I? Didn't she just turn eighteen or something? But I digress.

Just as I'm about to say something, the ground beneath my feet gives an unnerving shudder. It was weird. I pitched forward and would've fallen if I hadn't caught myself. Jessi fell to the floor, and as far as I could tell, Daimio was still on her feet.

"What the fucking hell was _that?"_ he snapped.

"Hell if _I_ know," I retorted. I stalked out of the room and to mine. As it turns out, I burst quite a _few_ lightbulbs in the hallway and my bedroom, but I didn't care. The only thing I needed right now was the hunting knife under my pillow and the .45 under the mattress. I stuck the knife in the waistband of my pants.

When I was on my way back, I ran into Daimio in the hallway. "What the hell are you doing?" he demanded.

"Preparing," I shrugged, checking the .45 to see if it was loaded. "If it's something big, don't wanna be caught with my pants 'round my ankles, do I?"

He didn't react to my choice of words (or the fact that I had no pants _on_). "Got anything else?" he asked.

"Not that I know of. You?"

"In your car. Put my stuff there when I had to drive to the hospital."

Great. Semi-guilt-trip-y. _Thank_ you, Ben.

"I'd get it if I were you."

That's what he would've heard if not for the huge crashing and Jessi's scream: _**"OH MY GOD!"**_

I just rolled my eyes and rushed into the living room (she over-reacted quite a bit, so I wasn't all too worried) – and stopped.

The first thing I thought of when I saw the thing that burst through my floor was trilobites. You know, those crazy things people always find fossils of? This monster's head sorta looked like that. And it's body looked like the body of a praying mantis. It didn't look like a frog monster, but there was no disguising from who it was descent – or what it's intent was.

"_**SAVE ME!"**_ Jessi screamed.

Well, I guess it _is_ my area of expertise, right? Instead of responding to her, I emptied my .45 into it. It turned and decided that I was probably the better thing to pick a fight with. Instead of hesitating, I tried to throw some electricity at it. And not only did I totally miss, but I hit something fabric-y and started a fire.

The thing was still alive and unharmed.

And I only had a hunting knife. _Shit._

Now I could see that Daimio was right behind me, and for a moment, I had this crazy sense of déjà vu. This was how it used to be, back when almost everyone was home and everyone was alive. Beautiful bought of nostalgia.

"All you got's the knife?"

"Sadly."

"_Shit."_

The thing was between us and the door, and Jessi was frozen against the wall by the door.

"Can you get her _outta_ here?" Daimio demanded.

"JESSI!" I shouted. "GET OUT!"

Jessi didn't move for a moment, but then she darted for the door and left. The monster didn't notice – it was focused on me and Daimio.

"_I_ could've done _that_," he snarked.

I handed him the knife and rolled my shoulders. The power I'd been denying for so long was just beneath the surface from earlier's exercise. "Then why didn't you?" I snapped. "I'm goin' for it."

And before he could say anything or do anything to stop me, I jumped at it. The monster thing (I want to call him Jimmy for some reason) wasn't expecting it, so I landed perfectly – on its face. Its mandibles chomped at me and got through my clothes before I could manage to get my hands on where I thought its brain was.

Daimio, of course, didn't want to be left out of the action. He was about to jump into the middle of it all, the _idiot._

"_DON'T!"_ I shouted, and winced – it bad got a good chomp on my leg. Hoping I had its brain in my hands, I let loose a pretty damn good shock, if I do say so myself. And beneath my hands, the bug started smoking. Bingo.

I pushed myself off of the monster and watched it twitch and fall. My shirt was in shreds and my leg was bleeding, but I didn't really care. Right now, my apartment was on _fire_ and Daimio and I were still _inside._ I could hear screams from the apartments surrounding mine, but it was more important for me to be saving the people in _this_ apartment.

"C'mon!" Daimio grabbed my upper arm and dragged me towards the door. Huh – I guess he had the same idea, too. The smoke was starting to build up, which meant that we could still get out without choking (too much).

Outside, people were streaming from the apartment building. Jessi was standing in the middle of the street next to the car, staring off at something. By the time I got to her, I could see what it was.

The sky was filled with smoke. People were streaming and screaming down the street, being chased by frogs and monsters similar to the one that took out my place.

"Holy _shit,"_ Daimio said slowly, taking in the sight before us.

"_Dude . . ."_ I added.

But Jessi had something else on her mind, and was frantically digging around her pocket. She pulled out a battered cell phone and jabbed a number out. As it rang, she kept saying, "C'mon, c'mon, _c'mon!"_ Her hands started shaking, and after a few moments, she let the phone drop out of her hand, and she fell to her knees.

"Mom . . . ? D-Dad . . . ?"

Oh crap.


	19. What A Catch, Donnie

Chapter 19: What A Catch, Donnie

_I've got troubled thoughts  
And the self-esteem to match.  
What a catch.  
What a catch . . .  
_~Fall Out Boy

* * *

_Shit._ I grabbed Jessi by her shoulders and brought her to her feet.

"What? _What?"_ Daimio demanded.

I ignored him. "Jessi?" I said forcefully. "Jessi, sweetheart? Where's your house?"

Jessi was shaking harder now, and tears were started to eek out of her squeezed-shut eyes.

"_Jessi!"_ I shouted, shaking her. "_Where. Is. Your. House!"_

Her hand pointed weakly in a diagonal of the street. I was seriously making up this whole plan on the fly, and I was praying to whichever deity that things would work.

Jessi sagged against me, and I had to catch her so she wouldn't fall. She clung to my shoulders and started mumbling to herself: "My _mom_ . . . my _dad_ . . . my _brother_ . . . my_ sisters . . ._ my _books . . ."_

I cruelly broke her grip on me and thrust Jessi at Daimio. "Cling to him!" I said, making it sound more like an order than a suggestion. "He's _totally_ clingable!" And he can be real nice if he wants to be, and he gets food, and he's a helluva dancer . . . .

(I do not mean to sound so angry and hurtful, but I'm panicking, my shit is on FIRE, my leg hurts like a BITCH, and I have to make sure nothing is going to attack us!)

She wavered a bit when I let her go, but stood her ground, staring up at Daimio with weeping, scared eyes. I coulda swore I heard her whisper, "Don't eat me."

Meanwhile, Daimio was shooting me this look of, "Oh my god, what the hell is wrong with you, you crazy bitch, I'm gonna slit your throat, growl", and I was shooting _him_ a look that _clearly_ said, "Dude if you don't let her cling to you I'll pick up where that fucking jaguar spirit left off and tear off your whole goddamn jaw and laugh while doing it".

I don't know how we were conveying this in just mere glances at each other, but we were. Yeah, we're that awesome.

I bent down and picked up Jessi's dropped phone and started dialing. That was when I noticed the state of my leg. Yeah, that little nibble I thought Jimmy got in was actual this huge frickin' chunk outta my thigh. No _wonder_ that sucker hurt. I'm not fucking kidding – I can see hunks of muscle and shit and it's kinda creepy. I was cascading blood – or had been, anyways. It was still eking blood, but it was starting to dry gummily to my pant leg. Hopefully, they won't notice too much.

Jessi walked up to Daimio slowly, and wrapped her arms around his waist carefully, like he was some possessed monster. When she realized that he wasn't going to eat her or something else just as ungodly, she sagged against him like a wet blanket. He was looking at her like she was a splatter of mud against his clothes – I'm gonna have to have words with that man. Some pretty _violent_ words.

"You're bleeding," she said offhandedly.

Well, shit.

"Doesn't hurt," I said. I dialed Rayne's number and waited impatiently as it rang. If something happened to her, or Zora, I'd never forgive myself. Ever.

"Who you callin'?" Daimio asked. He was still glaring at me, and he'd probably never forgive me for thrusting Jessi on him.

(Hell, I'm even starting to regret it, because she's starting to get too damn comfortable hanging on him like that.)

"The others," was all I said, because someone had picked up the line.

"Jessi?" Rayne was totally into Panic mode. "Ohmigawd, Jessi, something ate your house! And the only thing to come out was your dog!"

SHIT! "Naw, dude, it's me," I said quickly, "Where you guys at?"

"Me 'n Zora're in my attic! Some monsters and shit came outta the floor and started eating on my 'rents!" If I didn't know any better, I coulda swore that she was _happy_ about that.

I had a second to finish out my plan. "Stay there. We're coming to get you."

"What do you mean "_we're coming to get you"?"_ Daimio demanded as I hung up the phone. He couldn't do much with a catatonic girl hanging off him, but he could easily shoot me angry glares. "We should be getting the hell outta here!"

"Not without them," I argued, and started towards the car. "Let's go."

"My stuff was in the house," Jessi said quietly. "My books. My clothes. Everything I brought with me."

"Too late now," I muttered, climbing into the front seat of the car.

He knew it was stupid to fight. I wasn't going to give in on this. These guys were practically my kids.

"_Fine._ But I'm driving."

With a reluctant sigh, I moved myself to the passenger side. There's always time for compromise.

* * *

By the time we got there (which was like, forever, because Daimio missed the turn I told him to take and he insisted that he didn't), Rayne and Zora were in the front yard of a house that was dangerously quiet. I was in the passenger seat, tying my shirt sleeve around my leg to try and cover it up. I considered using my entire shirt for it, but then some little voice said, "You're already gonna be going places in your boxers, ya wanna be shirtless too?" I totally had to agree with it.

They climbed into the back seat with Jessi, who was still practically unresponsive.

"Dude, something ate your house!" Rayne said excitedly. "It was _huge!"_

Jessi visibly flinched, and I bit back the request to go by her house to see what was left.

"Yeah man," Zora added, less excited (thank God). "It was a freakin' mountain of gray shit and teeth." She looked like she was in shock. I couldn't blame her. The first time I saw something that huge, I was in shock for like, a week

"So where we goin'?" Rayne asked. "Because I'm starting to get a little hungry."

Of course, only Rayne would be thinking about her stomach at a time like this.

"I'll tell ya once I make a call," I said, dialing. I've only used this number once before, but I knew she'd answer. She _had_ to.

One ring . . . .

"Who ya gonna call?" Zora asked.

Two rings . . . . .

"Dude, who else?" Rayne scoffed. "Ghostbusters!"

Three . . . . .

"Will you all _shut up?"_ Daimio demanded.

Four . . . .

"Jink!" Rayne called from the back seat, "Tell your boy toy not to tell us to shut up! It's mean!"

Five . . . .

I was about to hang up when she picked up on the sixth ring: "_This better be important!"_

"Well, my _apartment_ is on fire and filled with mutated frog monsters, but I don't know if that counts."

A beat. "Jink? That you?"

"In the flesh, Lieutenant." Ignoring the umpteenth glare from Daimio, I asked, "You have any idea _why_ these things are eating the city?"

"Well, as far as we can tell, they inhabit the sewers-"

Insert dude from MIB II: "Tell me somethin' I _don't_ know!"

"And since we annexed all those little places east and west, they came into _our_ sewers. That's the best I got, kid."

"Well, I got kids in my car, and I need a place to stay."

"Kids? Jesus, didn't know you had a family, kid. Or the balls to _make_ one."

"Har har har. No, these kids are mine due to extenuating circumstances. But, as I've said, I need a place to stay."

There was a pause, and she went on hesitantly, "If I let you guys come down here, I can't have anyone under my feet. We've got heavy stuff moving around, and the last thing I want is for any of your _or_ my men to get hurt."

"Read ya loud and clear, Hawkeye."

She laughed. "That's _Lieutenant _Hawkeye to you." With a more serious voice, she added, "When will you be here?"

"We'll be there when we get there. See ya soon."

I hung up the phone and let it drop onto the bit of seat on my side. "Well, that actually went better than planned," I muttered.

"So where we heading?" he asked.

"Just get on the interstate and we'll get directions for it soon enough," I shrugged. You see signs for Offut all the time – I guess people heading that way need constant reminders of where they're going.

He stomped the break, and I flew forward and cracked my head on the windshield. A beautiful spiderweb of cracks popped up, and a trickle of blood started to slither down the side of my face. Another reminder to where a seatbelt, boys and girls!

"_Son of a bitch!"_ I yelped, falling back into the seat and slapping a hand over the cut on my head.

A chorus of shouts from the backseat erupted so loud I couldn't even hear what everyone was shouting. A flurry of hands came forward and starting hitting Daimio wherever they could. He easily maneuvered out of their reach.

"I am _done_ doin' what you tell me without a fucking _reason_," he snapped.

"God, I don't fucking _know!"_ I yelled. "I just jump the interstate to Bellevue and follow the fucking _signs!" _I swatted his shoulder and opened the passenger door. "Get the fuck out. I'm driving."

And his bastard ass better be happy I don't squeeze him in the back with all the girls.

I got over to his side of the car and waited for him to get out. But he took his sweet ol' time gettin' out. When he finally _did,_ I hauled off and hit him in the shoulder.

"Fuck!"

"_That_ was for cracking my head, you asshole."

Before he could hit me back, I dove into the front seat and slammed the door. I fiddled with the radio while he went around the car to get into the passenger seat. It took a bit, but I finally found something worth listening to.

"_Sit tight, I'm gonna need ya to keep time,  
C'mon just snap, snap, snap your fingers for me.  
Good, good, we're making some progress,  
C'mon, just tap, tap, tap your toes to the beat."_

"I loved this song," Jessi said flatly.

"I _lovelovelove_ this song," Rayne said happily. "Like, _always."_

"You only starting liking them when _I_ started liking them!" Zora snapped.

Shit, those girls are all jacked up.

When Daimio got back in the car, he grimaced at the music, but didn't say anything.

Good.

* * *

You ever see an Air Force base? Those places are huge. It's like its own mini city – has its own gas stations, stores, and the like.

It even had a mini motel, which is where I got to stay. It was a pretty nice place, if I do say so myself. Light blue walls, a small bed with matching bedspread. Did I mention I had it to myself? The girls got to share their room. Part of me felt kinda bad about that, but the other part didn't.

"I hope it's okay for ya," Hawkeye – known properly as Lieutenant Helen "Hawkeye" Macavoy – said. She was a slender woman of medium height, with blond hair bound in a tight braid.

"It's fine," I shrugged. "I just need a place for the night so I can figure out my next move."

"Oh yeah – apartment burning down." She gave me a sad look. "Sorry 'bout that."

"Don't be. It's fine."

She headed for the door, and added, "If you need anything, call!" before leaving.

Beautiful. Now I can pace without an audience.

What to do? I certainly can't waltz back into the Bureau with three teens in tow. Not only is Manning still pissed at me, he'd _never_ let me bring in a handful of mundies.

Or I could just dump them off somewhere and hope for the best. That could work . . . right?

No. These girls are too fucking damaged to leave them in the hands of anyone but me. I had to be the one to take care of them. They knew me, and I knew what they've gone through. Anyone else would just write them off as crazy, or leave them to their own devices.

But where? We can't stay at Offut forever. This was a heavy-duty military base (hell, during 9/11, they flew the President here! I can't handle that type of shit!) and it was _not_ the place to go to school.

You hear me. Those girls were going to college – even if I had to drag them there myself.

But in order to do that, I had to get a job. And for three times the college, that job better be freakin' good.

And then there's Daimio to consider. He'd _never_ go back to the Bureau. Not even if I offered him a lap dance and all the money in the world. So that meant one of two things: he could either go back to his mountain-man lifestyle or he could stick around – and get a job.

Three guesses on which one I wanted, and the first two don't count.

God, I feel like such a _chick_ when I have to deal with this crap. Fuck.

Back to the original question: where? I'm not taking them back to my place, of course – but for their own good, I'm not taking them back to the city. There's thousands – _thousands_ upon thousands – of cities in this country I can take them, and I've only been in a handful of them. And the first two that come to mind are Denver and Orlando.

(Yeah, I've been to Orlando. Remember the Man Spider I told you about? He was freaking people out in Universal Studios. First and last time I ever went to an amusement park.)

But anyways, that left Denver. Did I really want to be that close to the BPRD compound? Really now, I knew _firsthand_ what could – and did – escape from there. And if I was close enough, then shit would hit the fan. And then I would _so_ go Columbine on their asses.

Before I could delve too deep into the idea (as depraved as it was), someone knocked on my door. "Yeah?"

The door opened, and Daimio walked through. "Hey."

"Hey."

I was still pissed at him. When Lt. Macavoy saw me, she didn't say anything, but she did glare at Daimio (correctly assuming that _he_ was the cause for most of what the hell was wrong with my person).

"What are you doing?"

"Thinking."

"_About . . ."_

"What the hell I'm going to do." I sighed and leaned against the wall. "I don't know what to do with three girls, let alone how I'm going to feed them and occupy their time."

"Take 'em to the Bureau," he suggested. "Get 'em trained as agents."

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?" I snapped. "'Go to the Bureau and play Mommy while I go off and stew in self pity!'" I glared at him. "Or is that your lame attempt to subtly tell me that you're fucking leaving _again._"

I know I was hitting below the belt, but like I said – I was pissed.

"I'm not fucking _leaving,_" he snapped back.

I sighed and sat next to him on the bed. "Good. I don't want you too. You're stuck with us now, like it or not."

"Them too?"

"Yep."

He rolled he eyes in exasperation.

I leaned onto his shoulder. "I do _not_ want to go back to the Bureau. I do _not_ want to be subjected to all their shit anymore."

"So what do we do?"

"I don't know. I don't."

He grabbed my hand and said, "You'll think of something."

We sat in silence for quite some time. All the while, I was starting to come up with an idea that would work if we played our cards right.

"I don't want to go back the Bureau," I stated again, "But . . . . I will if I have to."

You ever hear that kid from old-time TV say, "What'chu talkin' 'bout, Willis?"

Daimio shot me a look and said, "What? _What?"_ in the same tone as that kid. Hilarious. I was waiting for him to say, "What'chu talkin' 'bout, Jink?"

"We need money for a place, right? And food? You know as well as I do how much we used to get paid. If I go back, we'd be set for life after a year and a half."

"But what about _them?"_ he asked. "What am I supposed to do with _them?"_

"Watch 'em and make sure they don't kill themselves," I shrugged. "If I can play Work-A-Holic Mommy, You can pull off Stay-At-Home Dah."

His shoulders slumped, and I couldn't help but laugh. "Poor you," I said dryly. "You probably thought you'd get the joy of being laid a couple times before having to play Daddy, right?"

He perked up a bit, and was about to say something, but I stopped him with, "Not tonight, Superman. Really. My face _still_ hurts, thank you."

* * *

**Alright, since it seems that only two people are reading this, (RubyDracoGirl and MyNamesNotAlice) this chapter is for them. You guys rock! And now, I give the rest of you an open invite: i have a list of songs and a simple outline of things to happen, but if anyone has a suggestion for a situation or a song i should use, go ahead and leave it in a review, since I check those more than messages. Srsly.**

**But major props to you two because you're the only ones that have been reviewing lately! I LOVE you guys!  
**


	20. Handlebars

Chapter 20: Handlebars

_My reach is global  
My tower, secure  
My cause is noble  
My power is pure  
_~Flobots

* * *

"This is going to be the most demeaning thing I've ever done."

"I know. That's why I'm _here._"

"You best be wipin' that _smirk_ off your face before I do it _for_ you."

"Ooh, I'm so scared. Is that a threat or a promise?"

"That's a total fucking _promise, _Ben. I swear to _God-"_

"God, stop it!" Jessi yelled. "You guys are _old_! Stop _flirting!"_

"Dude, I don't think they're flirting," Zora sighed, flipping through a magazine. "She's _threatening_ him." Then she added, "And they're not _that_ old."

"Dude, it's _Jink,"_ Rayne stated in a "duh" tone. "Jesus, her idea of foreplay is probably why she's missing teeth."

"I don't care!" Jessi whined. "I just don't want to see the person whom I'm to be considering my parent flirting with people! It's _wrong!_ I don't need to see this!" She covered her eyes with her hands.

I turned to Zora and before I could ask, she said, "Her parents were real lovey-dovey with each other . . . before."

That's what we're calling it now. "Before". The time when things were normal.

Everyone was piled around my room while I fiddled with the computer. Daimio was lounging in the chair, wearing a grin that was the _epitome_ of shit-eating grins, and the girls were stretched out over each other on the bed.

And I was about to beg Manning for my job back.

This felt so _wrong_ on every _level._ I shouldn't have to be begging for my old job. But after that _beautiful_ confrontation with Manning, I'd be lucky to be signed on as a grunt. Or the clean-up crew.

Instead of doing it over the phone, I was doing it via webcam, just so he could get the full effect of "I-just'got-saddled-with-three-girls-and-I-has-no-monies". Don't worry – I found pants. It'd be _very_ awkward to call Manning in only boxers. Might send the wrong ideas.

"Remember, guys, ix-nay the ude-day," I reminded them for the umpteenth time. "You mention him, and I'll chop off your feet."

Yep – since Daimio was supposedly "dead", Manning couldn't see him, hear him, or hear/see anything _about_ him. If he did, then EVERYONE was screwed. As in, Manning was gonna come down here and kick everyone's ass and totally draft me 'n Daimio against our wills. (Well, I was coming back anyways, but I wanted some stuff said and lain out before anything else.)

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Jessi scoffed. "I know, I know." She rolled her eyes. "Jeez, you act like we're all ditzy kids."

"You _are_ a bunch of ditzy kids," Daimio retorted.

"Jeez, rub it in, why don't'cha?" Rayne mumbled. She's been in a bad mood since . . . . well, a couple of hours ago, when Jessi told her to "fucking shut up about the house".

Which, I guess is better than Jessi – she's acting like it never happened; like her family never existed. I'm getting kinda worried here.

With a final sigh, I kissed my dignity good-bye and started up the webcam. Will I remember myself as I am now, with dignity intact? Or will I forever remember the day that I had to grovel for my job that was practically mine by birthright? Forget it.

The symbol that indicated the computer was searching for a signal was only on for a few seconds before Manning's face appeared on the screen.

"Well, well, well," he said condescendingly, "Look who we have here. I thought you weren't going to come back?"

"Yeaah . . . about that . . ." I trailed off. "I'm . . . . _sorry . . ._ for what went down last time I saw you."

"That's nice," he replied. "Now what do you want?"

The moment of truth. "My job back?"

He just looked at me, and for a second, I thought he was going to burst out laughing. But he said, "Give me one good reason I shouldn't disconnect you."

"Hey! I can give you three!" I said with false cheer, and ticked off the girl's names.

"What about them?"

"Since frogs _ate my house,_ I've become their surrogate parent. And I need disposable income."

He sat, thinking, for a moment. "Well, I _might_ have an opening for clean-up crew . . ."

Oh hell no. I wasn't getting screwed by this egotistical sonuvabitch. "Look, I'll come back on my _own_ terms," I said sharply.

"Oh, I don't _think_ so," he retorted. "If you _do_ come back, you're on probation – one false move, and you're out on your ass."

"Fine!' I groused. "Look, Manning, I just need a house! It can be right next to the fucking compound, but I just need a place for three kids!"

"We have plenty of rooms available-"

"No, no, no! I will _not_ have them living there where you can brainwash them into being more mindless soldiers! I want a freakin' _house!_ And tuition for all three."

"_Wat?"_ (You heard me – he said it just like that.) "We can't pay for three girls-"

"Just community college. I can handle the rest."

He considered this for a moment. "I think we can make this work."

_You better,_ I thought, _Or there'll be hell to pay._

"So, when do you think you can come back?" he asked.

"Immediately."

* * *

The cabin was small. There were only two rooms, and the living room could barely fit Rayne, let alone all five of us at once. It was three miles away from any civilization, and completely surrounded by woods.

But it was mine – er, ours.

"This place sucks ass," Rayne dead-panned.

"Better than nothing," I shrugged.

"It sucks ass, Jink," Daimio repeated.

"Better than nothing."

"The walls are like, two inches thick."

"Better than nothing."

"_There's only two rooms."_

"Better than nothing!" I shouted. "Jesus Rollerblading Christ, how many times do I have to repeat it?"

"So who gets what?" Jessi asked.

"You girls get the bedroom over there," I pointed, "And Captain Hammer here gets the one at the end of the hall."

Jessi giggled. "The hammer is my penis," she laughed, but stopped when I glared at her.

"Why does _he _get the bedroom with the bathroom?" Zora demanded.

"Because he's an adult and you aren't," I sighed. "And because when _I_ come home on the weekends, he's totally happy with sleeping on the couch." I turned my gaze pointedly to him. _"Riiiiiiiiight?"_

Translation: If you aren't you can take your ass outside and sleep.

"Fine," he snapped.

Yeah, Mr. Mountain-Man wasn't too happy with the whole situation. But that's life. _No one's_ happy with it.

* * *

**Sorry if it's little, guys - I wrote most of this at Shakespeare on the Green, and I wanted to get it posted. I'm having some friend-based issues (i.e., one friend is bitching at me for hanging out with a mutual friend because they've had a falling out and Friend 1 thinks that she's my mother even though she doesn't even like me that much.)**

**I'm off to write more. Keep on truckin'.**

**~me  
**


	21. Ocean Avenue

Chapter 21: Ocean Avenue

_There's a piece of you that's here with me.  
It's everywhere I go, it's everything I see.  
When I sleep, I dream, and it gets me by.  
And I can make-believe that you're here tonight . . .  
_~Yellowcard

* * *

My "homecoming" was not as happy as I wanted it to be. It consisted of Manning meeting me in the hanger about nine in the morning, saying, "Nice to see you, here's some paperwork to fill out," and me going back to my old room.

Beautiful, wasn't it?

But that's what I got saddled with my first day back: paperwork. And it was about the fucking frogs attacking my _house._ Jesus H. Christ, this man was all about misery, wasn't he? I bet that Paramore song is his theme song. Twenty bucks.

But I did it without complaint (even though it was sorta hard to explain the parts that involved Daimio _without_ Daimio). If I complained, I was screwed – and so was my entire family. No complaining, money at the end of the week. Just like every other human on the planet.

It took me, like, three hours to do it, too. It reminded me of how much I _hate_ paperwork. Really. I hope you guys never feel my pain.

So then I was just sitting there like, what do I do now? I couldn't really think of anything, 'cept for trolling the hallways for people I like and skirting the people I hate.

So that's what I did. It was as busy as it usually was, I guess. There were a ton of new people I didn't know, which made me realize that all the people I knew back then were probably dead or retired.

God. That's sad.

Of course, the _one_ person I wanted dead found me quite easily and ran right _up_ to me.

"Gods, Devon-" I started to say.

"I know, you don't really want to see me," he said quickly, "But I just wanted to say hi and welcome back and all that."

"Fantastic."

"Well . . . how've you been? How'd you get that bruise?"

"Walked into a fist."

"Is that how you lost that tooth, too?"

Huh. I almost forgot about that. (Which is kinda weird – how can you forget a hole in your face?) "No, I pulled it. Darn thing was getting in my way when I was eating."

Devon rolled his eyes. "Well, I also wanted to sort of apologize for that thing with Abe-"

"Uh, no." I turned around and went into the opposite direction.

"Wait!" he called, running after me, "You're not going to let me finish?"

"Nope!" I called over my shoulder. _"So_ not for that right now."

And I had bigger fish to fry, didn't I?

* * *

"Heeeeeeeeeey Kate. Toldja I'd come back, didn't I?"

Kate jerked up from her desk and did a double take. "Jink?" she asked. "I thought . . . I thought you quit." She paused. "And what the hell happened to you face?"

"Extenuating circumstances made me return," I shrugged. "And I walked into a fist. Missed me?"

Thankfully, she didn't press the whole "ur face is all ugleee and bruised" issue. "Hell yes!" She motioned for me to sit. "Things around here . . . jeez. Makes me miss the old days."

"Back when we were the government's dirty little secret?" I joked.

"A little. Back when it was you, me, Liz, Johann, Abe . . . Hellboy . . . Ben . . ."

I tried not to wince at her mentioning Daimio. How would she react if she knew I was hiding him at my place? _Hey, Kate, you miss Ben Daimio so much, come by my place – he's probably cooking dinner._ Yeah, it wouldn't be pretty.

"Back before things went to shit and we were under the UN's thumb, you mean," I said.

"Yep. Since we became a United Nations resource, things have been _way_ hectic."

"I totally get that. Since everything's been headin' south, I've got custody of three kids."

"_WHAT?"_

Oops. She didn't know.

"Yeah, three girls I was friends with for a couple years," I tried to shrug it off. "Their houses were totally demolished and their parents were toast. So I'm keeping 'em in a cabin a few miles from here."

"Good God, Jink, you can't just up and take three girls across the state!"

"_Their parents are dead."_

"_But you are not their legal guardian!"_

"Duh! They're all, like, over eighteen! They can be their _own_ damn guardians."

Kate sat and stared at me for a second, and went, "_Oh._ Okay. When you said "kids", I thought you meant _little_ kids."

"No, man, I can't _stand_ littles," I said quickly. "Whiny little peoples they be."

Kate gave a slow nod, and glanced down at her desk. "Look, I love talking to you and all, but this paperwork has to be done by-"

"Say no more," I said, standing. "I just came to say hi, is all."

"It _was_ good to see you," she said. "By the way . . . are you still taking your meds?"

_FREEZE!_ I heard brakes squeal in my head. "Yep!" I said with false brightness.

Hey, what she didn't know wouldn't hurt either of us.

* * *

The next blast from the past was Abe. I saw him going down the hall while I was walking back to my room.

"Hey Abe," I gave a small wave. "How's it hanging?"

"Hey Jink," he replied sounding tired. "Where were you?"

"Exploring the normal life," I said vaguely. He knew about Daimio, and my little "note". "But I'm back."

"Is that what they call it now?" he mused. "The normal life?"

"Har har har."

"So is this going to be a regular thing with you?"

"What?"

"Leaving. Returning. Pretending the former didn't happen."

I felt something inside me just _clench_ with anger and sadness. "Sure," I quipped dryly, brushing past him. "Just call me Hellboy."

* * *

I lay on my back in my room on the floor. The ceiling was boring gray as always. The _room_ was just plain _boring_ as always. There was just . . . nothing here. At all.

Someone knocked on the door. "It's open," I called faintly.

It opened, and Marie slipped through. Great. Just _great._

"Heard you were back," Marie said, coming over and sitting next to me. "What'cha doin'?"

"Sitting here and pretending I'm home."

"And how's that working for you?"

"Suckily."

"I bet," she said. "But don't worry – it'll be better soon."

"How so?"

She pulled her legs to her chest and wrapped her arms around her knees. "There's always your dreams, right? You can do anything in your dreams."

That's always true, id'nit?

When I wake up, I'm back in the cabin. Instead of being small, it feels . . . cozy. Warm. Way better than the drafty Bureau, anyways.

Zora's on the floor, watching the television with complete and total rapture. Rayne's sitting on the couch absorbed in a book. Jessi has yarn in her hands and is making something that's dark blue. I don't see Daimio, but a delicious smell is wafting around the cabin and it's making my mouth water. I don't know what it is, but it smells _awesome._

I just stand there and take it in. I don't talk – that would ruin the image. Ruin the dream. I'm content with just watching.

I can live with this.


	22. Last of the American Girls

Chapter 22: Last of the American Girls

_She puts her make-up on like graffiti on the walls of the heartland.  
She's got a little book of conspiracies right in her hand.  
She is paranoid, endangered species headin' into extinction.  
She is one of a kind.  
She's the last of the American girls.  
_~Green Day

* * *

_Some of them want to use you.  
Some of them want to be used by you.  
Some of them want to abuse you.  
Some of them want to be abused.  
_~Emily Browning, _Sweet Dreams (Are Made Of This)_(cover)

.

Rayne sighed as she lugged her bookbag into the library. Damn Jink for enrolling her into college! She _so_ did not want this in any way, shape, or form. She had everything planned: she had _customers_ who wanted her art! Sell that art, buy an apartment to live in, create more art to sell! It was a perfect system!

But no! Jink wanted her to have a future. _Jink,_ who was barely seven-ish years older than _she_ was, who took more interest in her education than her own _mother_ did. It didn't make sense. What happened to the fun-loving Jink who liked to smoke a few joints on the weekend? Who loved to just jerk around and have _fun?_ This new Jink (the working/steady relationship/family Jink) was almost . . . _normal._

She sat at a table near the window and cracked open her first book. Jesus, first day of community college and she already had homework out the wazzoo. Applied Mathmatics, English Composition, Advanced Spanish . . . how did Jink know what classes to put them all in? That was just crazy.

Someone sat across from her; a man, a little older than her, and reasonably handsome. But his _eyes . . ._ he had some killer eyes. They looked almost red in the light. That didn't fight with his mocha complexion and easy smile.

He was looking at her like she was a piece of meat.

"Hey," he says. "That looks complicated. I bet you're good at it."

Rayne said nothing.

"I bet you're tired or math," he went on. "How's about you let me take you for some coffee."

"How about I beat you with a fucking bat?" Rayne countered.

"Oh, _feisty,"_ he smirked. "I like that in a woman."

"Oh, _corny,"_ Rayne mimicked his tone. "I totally _don't_ like that in a guy."

His smirk faltered. "I'm sorry," he said, "I know you probably don't usually talk to people like me-"

"Nope."

"But I would be most honored if I got your name."

"Rayne."

The smirk was back. "That's beautiful."

"And yours?"

"Aaron."

Rayne gave a nod of understanding. "Very nice. Now go away."

"But what about that coffee?"

Rayne took a moment to consider. "I guess."

* * *

_As the rumor wind blows, my infamy grows,  
Seein' friends above, and I hit another low.  
The picture I made to look at myself  
Is turning into somebody else.  
_~The Offspring, _Takes Me Nowhere_

.

Zora wandered the streets, hands in her pockets. There was nothing to do. She blew off classes for the day, which she knew would make Jink _furious,_ but she just couldn't do it. The college life just wasn't for her.

What made Jink think that she could do whatever she wanted with them? She wasn't their parent. She was a friend. But she was just so _quick_ to take over – with Captain Scarface hooked to her hip, of course.

She didn't like him. He was bossy, big, and pretty freaky in general. Seriously, what kind of guy can survive having half of his _face_ tore out? And how did he fucking _eat?_ Or smoke those gross cigars that appeared out of fucking _nowhere?_

The streets were empty, which was weird for this time of day. She checked her watch and winced. Three AM – yeah, it's not so weird that the streets are empty.

She kept walking, though. She didn't feel the need to go home; not just yet, anyways. It's not like they were missing her or anything. Hell, if they missed her, they'd call her phone.

A police car turned the corner, and she ducked into an alley. She learned the hard way that cops don't like kids out this late –one pulled her over a couple hours ago, demanding to know why she was out this late. Thank God she was gifted at lying, otherwise she'd be screwed.

Zora waited with baited breath as the car passed. The cherries weren't lit, which meant it was just patrolling the neighborhood – looking for her kind. Once the car was passed, she let out a shaky breath.

"Hey kid! What the hell you doin'?"

Zora turned on her heel and prepared herself for trouble. Four guys of varying ages sat in a circle, a pile of cards and single bills in the center of them.

"I was, uh, hiding from the cops," she mumbled. "What're y'all doing?"

They all looked at each other until one of the younger ones looked at her and said, "Poker." He sounded almost as young as she was, with a small goatee and bright blue eyes that seemed to shine in the darkness.

She walked up to them and looked down at the circle. "You guys just sitting here playing poker?"

"Got a problem with it, girlie?" the oldest guys said. He had a bit of grizzle on his jaw, and his face had a weathered look.

"No," she said. "Just lookin'."

They all exchanged looks once more, and the guy that had spoken to her first said, "If you want, we can deal you in next hand."

"Sure," she shrugged. "I ain't got anything better to do."

As she crouched to the ground next to him, he extended his hand. "I'm Zane."

She took his hand and shook it firmly. "I'm Zora."

* * *

_Shit!  
Nothing makes sense!  
So I won't think about it . . .  
I am full of indifference!  
_Say Anything, _The Futile_

.

Jessi strolled into the store and walked to the back wall like she owned the place. That's how it was, right? You walk around like you're afraid of people, then people treat you like a victim – or make you one. You walk around like you belong there, then you don't get any flak. Simple science.

Well, simpler than college science, anyways. Man, that shit was _hard._ But that was the only way to get ahead in life. So she suffered through it, and now she was rewarding herself.

The yarn spoke to her. There was so much of it there . . . blues and blacks and purples and bright pinks and mellow greens and some bright-ass yellow that almost hurt her eyes. Some of it was as fine as fishing line, and then there was yarn as thick as her pinkie finger. So much . . . she was almost high off the idea of what all of this could make.

But she couldn't get it all – she only had twenty bucks, which was a lot of yarn if she could use it thriftily.

So she waited for the yarn to speak to her. And while she waited, she let her mind empty. She didn't think about Jink, Rayne or Zora, or her dead family. She just focused on the yarn speaking to her.

After a moment, one yarn burst out at her. It was a deep midnight blue with a strand of sparkly something in the middle. When she grabbed it, it poofed pleasantly in her hands, and she knew that she _had_ to have this yarn.

And she knew what she was going to do with it.

* * *

_The road outside my house  
Is paved with good intentions.  
Hired a construction crew  
'Cuz it's hell on the engine . . .  
I love you in the same way.  
There's a chapel in the hospital.  
One foot in your bedroom,  
And on foot out the door.  
Sometimes we take chances, sometimes we take pills . . .  
_~Fall Out Boy, _Hum Halleluiah _

.

This was ridiculous. This was fucking _ridiculous_.

Ben Daimio sat on a log and puffed furiously on a rapidly shrinking cigar. How the hell did he get himself into this mess? Not only did he have to worry about Abe revealing him, but now the kid was up there, too, and for all _he_ knew both of 'em were just having a fucking _jolly good time_ talkin' about him behind his back.

And why the fuck had Jink left _him_ in charge of these kids? He didn't _do_ kids. And kids didn't _do_ him, either. This was just _stupid._

When he hit the end of the cigar, he spat the butt out into the grass and took out another to light.

He did _not_ want to be in this mess. He should be back in Canada, living in _his_ woods, not _these_ woods. These woods were tainted; he'd already run into three hiking groups! How could he live like this – all these people could find out where he was living! Jink hadn't thought this all through. Not at _all._

But she was thinking more of how to keep everyone together and those girls out of Manning's claws. She had good intentions.

_Ha. The road to Hell's paved with 'em,_ he mused. _Hell, the road outside the _house_ is._

He didn't want to admit it, but the truth was that he missed her. _God_ he missed her. Her attitude was the only fucking attitude he could _take_ from these girls. But he couldn't help but be worried about her. No one else at the BPRD was going to watch her back – not when she was going all "Hellboy" on them. And especially not since she was acclaimed to be crazy.

Oh yeah. He heard the rumors while he was there (of course, he started one or two of 'em himself), and Abe pretty much confirmed it when he saw him last. Jink was pretty much fucking nuts. And the worst part . . . . well . . .

The worst part was that he thought she was taking meds for it . . . and he hadn't seen her pop a single pill.

So, did that mean she was gonna go crazy and slit her wrists again? Or would she just go into a frog fight and now come out?

He was _so_ not comfortable sitting here smoking while she was risking her ass. But he sure as hell wasn't risking his secret to go after her.

He would just have to deal with the fact that she was pretty much on her own. And he almost hated himself for it.

* * *

**Wow. Two updates in one day! I must REALLY love you guys. Major shout-outs to Sionnach Cliste, RubyDracoGirl, and MyNamesNotAlice. You guys are awesome reviewers. This story is for you. Hope you enjoy~**

**~Me  
**


	23. Grand Theft Autumn

***yawn* Hey, look! An update!  
**

* * *

Chapter 23: Grand Theft Autumn/Where's Your Boy?

_Where is your boy tonight?  
I hope he is a gentleman.  
Maybe he won't find out what I know.  
You were the last good thing about this side of town.  
_~Fall Out Boy

* * *

The week was slow – like, turtle slow. Friday, I was packed to go. I was spending the weekend at home. (Manning knew this. That's why the following part was so painfully backstabbing).

Just as I was about to leave . . . I got called to Manning's office.

"People have seen some sort of . . . sea monster . . . off the coast of Maine," he said.

I just glared at him. I was _hating_ him at this moment. _Hating_ him. Like, I was planning on how I could murder him in the most grisly way possible and where I could hide his body. I had it down to burying him up to his head and running it over with a lawn mower, or doing the same, covering his head with honey, and setting a pack of fire ants on him. Both were equally satisfying, but I was gonna go with the lawnmower – I'd have a bit more fun with that.

"I want you to go up there with Devon-"

"_What? _I am _not_ going _anywhere_ with that _imbecile!"_ I started to stand, but Manning motioned for me to sit, which I did with extreme reluctance.

"I know that there's bad blood between you – heaven knows why," he added, "But you're the most muscle we have at the Bureau at the moment, and Devon just needs to get away for a while."

"So send 'im with a platoon!" I snapped. "Leave me _out_ of this!"

Manning shook his head. "These people want someone of _your_ caliber. They practically _asked_ for you."

"You mean they asked for Hellboy and you had to offer them the next best thing," I retorted.

"They asked for someone who wouldn't tear up the town with guns," Manning said. "And that's you."

That was a load of bullshit. But once again – if I said no, then no house. God, I hated being under his thumb.

"Fine."

* * *

The chopper was as I always imagined it. I haven't ridden it to a job (I refused to call it a mission – it made me sound like the hero I wasn't) in forever.

And I've never ridden it with _Devon, _either.

"Do you want to read the mission file?" he asked.

I was slumped in my seat, arms crossed, headphones in. "Nope."

"Do you want to talk about what we might be facing?"

"Nope."

"Do you want to talk about _anything?"_

"Nope."

Now he was getting frustrated. "Can I ask _why?"_

"Because if I tell you what I _really_ want to say, I'm gonna get fired."

* * *

The town of Kristoph, Maine was nothing but a wee bit of a thing. I didn't see more than fifty houses altogether. The people hid when Devon and I walked down what I guess could be called Main Street. I didn't blame 'em – I could look pretty badass when I wanted to. Or, y'know, they were scared of _Devon,_ but I doubted that.

"You see anyone?" he asked.

"Nope," I sighed. He'd asked me even _more_ questions in the chopper, and each of them was answered the same way. I was _really_ starting to get bored with the whole thing. "Probably hiding," I shrugged.

"I wonder why?" he muttered.

"Gee, I wonder?" I replied, dripping with sarcasm. "There's a sea monster on the loose! These people are _insane_ for wanting to be inside on such a nice occasion!"

"You know what I mean!" he said. "We're here! I thought that they'd . . . y'know . . . come out to say hi."

Man, where the hell has _he_ been? I've been away, and _I_ know what's going down! "Haven't we been getting all sortsa bad rap from the media?"

He shrugged evasively. Yeah. I thought so.

Once I found a street sign that pointed to a pier, I turned down the street and started jogging for the shore, not pausing for Devon to catch on. I was getting this done and over with _right. Now._

The pier wasn't anything special. Just a wooden dock with about half a dozen boats and dinghies tied up. I've seen more on a river. Which is quite sad, actually.

The dock was just a patchwork piece of plywood, actually. I was afraid to stand on it. But stand on it I did – right to the very edge.

Devon stopped at the beginning of the pier. "What are you doing?" he called.

"Lookin' for a sea monster!" I called.

"This doesn't look safe!"

I turned around and gave him an "orly?" look. "_Since when is our job fucking safe?"_ I'm sorry for being in such a bad mood, but I was supposed to be on my ass right now with a fantastic DVD I hadn't yet picked and a Dr. Pepper in my hand.

Devon's eyes grew wide, and he pointed to something behind me.

I turned around and looked up, expecting there to be this towering monster. Instead, I keep looking down . . . and down . . . . and down . . .

And see this little thing that looks like Nessie's baby just floating in the water.

"This is it?" I dead-panned. "I got sent to _Maine_ for _this?"_ I sat down on the dock and reached out for mini-Nessie. "Aw, ain't you just a wee bit?" I cooed. "Yeah, you're just a wee slip of a thing."

The mini-Nessie made a cute burbling sound and let me pat its slippery head. Yep, it was a 10 on the Cute Meter. The people of Kristoph, Maine were a bunch of yellow-bellied cowards, mm-hm.

Then mini-Nessie bite my hand and yanked me underwater.

I was _so_ not expecting that.

I hit the water with a loud _splash!_, and suddenly I was in the silence that was the ocean. There's always this feeling I get when I'm near the ocean – this water covers the entire planet, and I'm _in_ it. I just feel so connected and so insignificant at the same time.

But I had more things to focus on at the moment. Mini-Nessie was dragging me deeper and deeper, and if I didn't stop it my lungs were going to collapse.

I tried to shock it at first, but you gotta realize: ocean = salt water = high electric conductivity + Jink = lots of dead things that we don't want dead. So that option was out. So was a gun.

That meant pocket knife.

I didn't want to do this to Mini-Nessie – it _was_ cute – but I was a Bureau agent first, a woman who adores cute things second, so MN had to go.

I grappled for my knife and popped out a blade, and stabbed MN in the side. It's mouth jerked open in surprise, andI managed to yank my hand away.

To Mini-Ness, it was on like Donkey Kong. It shot at me like a torpedo, and I just barely managed to get out of the way. It could turn on a dime, though, and dove at me again.

I needed air. I needed it _badly._ I started towards the surface and got out of the way again – this time, as MN went past, I stuck out my knife and managed to slice its side.

It turned and latched onto my shoulder, and I bit back a yelp of pain. I was starting to get a headache from the lack of air, and I could see things getting dark. I stabbed MN with my knife one more time, this time in the head. It jerked a few times before finally falling still and letting go of my arm.

It took me less than two minutes to get to the surface (which is okay, I guess – mini-Nessie got me down there is less than one.) Once I hit it, I took such a huge gasping breath I think I might've swallowed some water by accident.

Devon was on the edge of the pier, looking down. I was a good five feet away, and it only took a few strokes to get to him.

"Are you okay?" he asked as he held out a hand to help me up.

I replied by grabbing his arm – and pulling him into the water with me.

* * *

I went straight home. No going in to talk to Manning, so saying "see-ya!" to Kate. I went _straight home._

And once I walked through the door, I started stripping off wet clothes. It was two in the morning, so no one saw me, thank God. But there'd be a mess to clean in the morning – I flung clothes _everywhere_ while I was walking to my bedroom. My pants where on the couch. My shirt was somewhere in the living room, along with my socks. My shoes were in the kitchen, my hat was on someone's door knob . . . yeah, I was just a strip show, wasn't I?

I opened the door to the bedroom and closed it quietly, and fell without preamble onto the bed. There was something kinda hard in it already, but I was beat from nearly drowning and I was still soaking wet. I was tired.

Whatever the hard thing was kicked me out of the bed, and I hit the floor with a dull thunk. "_Ow,"_ I moaned.

A lamp cliked on, and Daimio looked down at me from the bed. "The _fuck?"_

"That _hurt."_

He sighed angrily. "You couldn't _call?"_

"In Maine. Pillow, blanket ples."

A pillow and a blanket did not appear. "Get in the bed, Jink."

I smirked into the carpet. "Ooh, trying to take advantage of a girl who's half-asleep, are we?"

"I'm going to the couch."

"Stay in the bed. I'll take the floor. Blanket, please."

Wa-lah! A blanket materialized.

"You couldn't call?" he repeated.

"In Maine," I repeated. "Sea monster. Attacked me. I'm sleeping."

I'm not sure if he said anything after that. I was asleep.

* * *

***another yawn* Teh Roni is sleepeh. It's midnight here in the midwest, and I'm all tired and whatnot. So all of you have fun with this . . . . AND REVIEW PLEASE. PLEASE. PLEASE. I WILL LOVE YOU FOREVER IF YOU DO.  
**


	24. Hum Along

Chapter 24: Hum Along

_You'll never hear this song.  
You'll never see the movie in my head.  
But you infest my sleep, and your figure creeps  
Through my walls and hums above my bed.  
_~Ludo

* * *

I woke up in bed instead of on the floor. I really didn't care of course – the part of my mind wondering about that was being smothered by the part of me who still wanted sleep – but I kept thinking that there was something I was supposed to be doing.

But screw it – I still ached from fighting Mini-Nessie, that cute li'l asshole. I stayed in bed for as long as I could stand my stomach growling. So by the time I got up, it was just after one in the afternoon.

The house seemed . . . empty, surprisingly. I didn't see anyone in the living room, and the only sounds I was hearing was coming from . . . the kitchen?

I walked into the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, and low and behold: Daimio was cooking. Let me repeat that: Daimio. Was. Cooking. I know – I'm surprised, too.

"What the fuck is this?" I asked, voice thick with sleep.

He looked up at me, surprised, and said, "Oh, hey, you're up. Just makin' some breakfast." Then he held up the pan he was cooking with, and my jaw dropped: it was bacon.

"Is that . . . . bacon?" I asked quietly. "Real bacon?" Not turkey bacon all the girls wanna eat?

"Yep," he quipped. Next to him sat a plate of sausages, eggs (scrambled and sunny-side up in the most perfect way), and even a stack of flapjacks.

"Some of that better be for me," I said, sitting at the table.

"It will be," he replied, "Once you clean up your goddamn mess and get dressed."

Well, damn. I've been put in my place, haven't I?

* * *

With both living room and Jink clean, I sat back at the table and nearly fainted – this food smelled good. I heaved full a plate with sausage, bacon, eggs, and pancakes and dug in. Daimio had food, too, but he was eating all nice compared to how I was shoveling it in.

"Jebus," I said thickly. "You're cooking my food from now on. Seriously."

He shrugged off the comment, and I went back to shoveling food into my mouth in silence. God, he could cook! "Like, really?" I asked, "How the fuck can you cook this well?"

He shrugged. "Pick up these skills when living on your own."

"Like hell! I lived on my own, and I can't cook this well!"

"Well, did you have anyone to teach you?"

" . . . No."

"Then there you go."

Ah. I see. "Doesn't matter now, does it? I got you to cook for me."

He rolled his eyes, and I smiled smugly. If I could, I'd be purring.

A thought suddenly hit me when he and I were sitting on either ends of the couch, watching a random blow-'em-up movie. I couldn't help but voice it.

"We're . . . alone the house, aren't we?"

He didn't even look at me to reply, "Yep."

"Huh." I scooted just a bit closer. "Any idea when the girls are gonna be home?"

"Nope." If he had noticed my obvious move, he didn't say anything.

"Not anytime soon, though, right?" I scooted even closer.

"Yeah – they probably won't be back until tonight." He _had_ to've noticed me. But he didn't say anything.

"So, about nine-ish?" I moved over once again, so now there was about three inches between us. He _had_ to notice me moving by now – I had jumped a god foot if not more.

"That's what I'm thinking." Passive as fuck.

I moved the last three inches so I was right up next to him. "I'm down with that."

"M-hm." Dammit! Still nothing!

By now, I had nothing to lose and all to gain, didn't I? I slung my legs over his and threw an arm around his neck. He had to say something _now._ _Had_ to. But nothing.

But I had another idea. Don't worry, I wasn't going to strip him (though that would've been a great next step). Jessi did this trick to me once to get my attention, and it works like you would've believe.

I rested my chin on his shoulder. " . . . . . . I'M TAKING OFF YOUR PANTS."

He turned to me and said, "Are you trying to tell me something here?" I could obviously see he was joking, and I smirked.

"Why would I be doing that?" I said. "I'm just . . . sitting here . . . threatening to take off your pants." Yeah, I do that all the time!

He looked pointedly at my legs on his and looked back at me, one eyebrow raised.

"What?" I threw my other arm around his neck and rested my forehead against his. "I don't hear you complaining."

_**RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING!**_

To say that I jumped would be an understatement. I fell on the floor. Like, I was _face-down_ on the ground.

"Your phone's on the floor right by you," he said with a sigh.

I groped the ground until I found the buzzing phone, flipped it open, and pressed it to my ear. "If this isn't the kids, or life-and-death, I'm going to murder you," I dead-panned. "And this is a fucking promise, by the way."

"Jink, where _are_ you?" Manning growled in my ear. I groaned. "You just disappear to God knows where-"

"I went home," I said. "See my kids. Eat some food. The same ol' song-and-dance."

"_Without telling anyone?"_

"Yep."

He sighed angrily. "Look, you can't just run off and do whatever-"

"Yes I can," I countered. "Watch me. And I'll be back in a day or two." And I hung up and flung it across the floor. I got up and smiled before saying, "Now . . . where were we?"

He looked distracted, so I went and promptly sat astride his lap. "Where we in the middle of something?" I asked him, staring him in the eyes. "Because I think we were. Don't you?"

And then, just as I was about to lean down and kiss him, the front door flung open.

"Did not!" someone shouted.

"Hell yeah it did!" Jessi walked through the door, a broad grin on her face. "Harry Potter is the best thing of our generation!" She looked over at us to ask if we could back her up, but once she saw us, her grin grew wider. "Jesus, guys, you couldn't do that in your own room?"

I growled and jumped up, and stalked to my room. "FUCK IT! I'm going BACK to BED." I slammed the door behind me and threw myself onto the bed.

Fucking cockblocks.

Well, fuck it. I'll go back to living the reality in my head. (Hey, it has its own theme song!) Is that pitiful? No. And neither is crying because Daimio will never realize how much he stars in my fantasies.

* * *

An hour later, I was half-asleep when someone opened the door. I didn't get up or say anything, but I was sending out all sorts of "go away from me" mental signs. I was wary of who it was until they climbed onto the bed and let me curl up against them.

"I'm sorry," I said quietly. "I shouldn't've run off like that."

"Not your fault," he said gruffly.

I pressed myself up closer to him and enjoyed the warmth that radiated off of him. How the hell was he so fucking warm? I was so freaking cold nowadays; how was he warm?

"We should do something."

"Like what? We're in the middle of fucking nowhere. What's there to do?"

I turned to face him and cocked an eyebrow. "You really gotta ask?"

* * *

**. . . . And then they played Yahtzee. **

**JINK: *looks down at dice* YAHTZEE! I WIN! *jumps up* *hits head on shelf above her* *falls down unconscious***

**BEN: *sighs* *facepalm***

**Don't worry, darlings! Roni wouldn't be so mean as to hint at a lemon! Trust me - you'll know when it's happening. *eyebrow wiggle* BECAUSE I MIGHT MAKE IT A CONTEST PRIZE! Details at seven!**

**BEN: *looks at watch* It's eight.**

**ME: YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN, DARNIT!**


	25. Situations

Chapter 25: Situations

_She can't behave, and I'm just a slave.  
Don't worry, I'll be gone when the morning comes!  
Darling, what it going on?  
Honestly, that never happened.  
Lying is your latest fashion!_  
~Escape The Fate

* * *

When I got back to the BPRD, I couldn't even begin to tell you how upset Manning was. Like, I'm serious here – the man looked like he was going to explode.

"_WHO THE HELL TOLD YOU THAT YOU GET TO __**LEAVE?"**_

"Um . . . . no one? I went home for the weekend, dude – had kids to see."

He had called me into his office as soon as I stepped onto the base, which I wasn't too worried about – I was more worried about the shade of purple his face was turning. He's getting up in age, you see, and I don't think it's healthy for him to turn eggplant purple anymore.

"_THEN YOU ASK __**ME**__ TO LEAVE, DAMMIT!"_

I winced at the high pitch of his voice. Damn, I didn't think that he'd get _this_ pissed. Hell, I'm almost _scared_ here.

"Just calm down, m'kay?" I said slowly. "I'm sorry, alright? Won't leave the place without your permission again. Promise."

This seemed to calm him down a bit – at least he went to being red instead of purple. "You'd better!" he snapped. "Or you're out on your ass, Jink!"

I nodded, properly chastised. "Totally cool," I said. "Again, sorry."

"You _should_ be."

.

.

I was put back on assignment as soon as the little pow-wow was over. Three guesses on who, and the first two don't count.

"'S gonna be _fun,_" I muttered sarcastically.

"What was that?" Abe asked.

"Nothin', bro. Just needed to remind myself something." Yeah, that if I killed him, I was gonna go in the Pokey.

"Oh." He went back to looking at the mission folder. I refused to look at the thing. Because seriously, if I knew what I was facing beforehand, then all I'd be able to think about was how I could feed Abe to it.

Don't think wrong of me here – I still love Abe like a brother. But the fact that he's starting to associate my leavings with Hellboy's . . . well, it stings more than it has the right to. I try to ignore most of the jibs from folks, but that one's still smarting, and until it stops Abe's on my shit list.

"You ready for this?" he asked.

"Sure," I sighed.

I'm guessing he sensed that I was either still upset with him, or that I just didn't want to talk, because he stopped talking to me. Fantastic.

I was nothing like Hellboy. I _stayed._ Well, I left for a while, but I came _back._ I'm _helping_ around here. And where is he? He told Kate something about Africa, but that's one hell of a continent. One does not just stroll into Africa, has to be a plan in place. Which I have no time for. I barely have time for family here.

I got lost for a few moments, wondering what the girls and Daimio were getting up to, so I was quite surprised when the little plane landed. Then it was just a short van-ride to the gig.

Really, I didn't know what I was expecting when we showed up. Frogs? Boogeymen?

No. Another fucking _ghost._ Ever since that fucking fiasco with He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named (not ol' Voldy – the other bastard. You know who I speak of), I totally and completely refuse any gig featuring ghosts. Or anything corporeal.

So how the fuck did I end up here?

A man in his mid-thirties with thin brown hair was standing on the front porch of a large, decrepit mansion that easily looked like something Scarlett O'Hara might live in. The man was staring at his watch and uneasily shifting from foot to foot.

When he saw me and Abe pile out of the van, he threw his arms up in the air in a combination of relief and exasperation. "Finally!" he called. "I called you guys, like, _hours_ ago!"

I rolled my eyes.

He looked from me to Abe and back to me. "Where's the big guy?" he asked. "Red? Tail? Horns?"

"Hellboy?" Abe asked slowly.

"That's him!"

"No longer affiliated with the BPRD."

Then he looked at me. "And who the hell is this?" he demanded, pointing at me. "Where's the other chick? The one who throws fire?"

"Missing," Abe said. I was too angry to say anything, so thank God that Abe was there. Otherwise, the guy might've been missing a key point in his anatomy.

"Well that's just _great!"_ he said. "I was expecting the dream team here, ya know? Not just whoever was handy!"

I was gonna jump the guy. Yep. Just decided it. Man's gonna die. Just as I was about to make my move, Abe lay a hand on my shoulder.

"We can always _leave,_ Mr. Bennet," Abe said calmly.

"But I need _help!"_ he nearly shouted. "Who else is going to get rid of this damn ghost?"

This was mine. "Ghostbusters?" I suggested. "Maybe TAPS? Hear those guys got cheaper rates than us, anyways."

"And better people skills," Abe added.

"_Totally,"_ I agreed. Damn, this was some of the most fun I've had all day. I had to stop myself from smiling.

"But they're not _you!"_ Mr. Bennet was practically throwing a temper tantrum. His face was getting close to the same shade of purple Manning's had been only that morning. "I want _you_!"

"Naw thanks," I waved him away and turned back to the van. "C'mon, Abe, let's rock this pop stand."

* * *

Rayne could recall the feel of someone else's fist hitting her face only once before – back when she was eight, by her father. And right afterwards, her mother had beat off the guy with a bat and called the cops. She had been expecting it, actually – the man was insane.

But this? This was unexpected. This was _unwanted._ All she had said was that she didn't feel like Chinese food that afternoon. And then Aaron's fist came out of nowhere and smashed into her cheek hard enough to swell and cause a small tear to leak out of her eye.

"See what you made me do?" he snapped. "Jesus Christ, woman, I don't need to hit you, but look at the shit you do!"

She wanted to cry out, to say something against this, but within the next moment his arms were around her and he was whispering gently in her ear, "Baby, I'm so _so_ sorry, I didn't mean to hit you. I'm just so _frustrated_ with work right now, and I just took it out on you, and I'm _so_ sorry."

He _did_ seem agitated when he picked her up from the library (which had become their daily meeting place after class). He hadn't said anything when she asked him about it, and he was pretty much on edge all afternoon.

"It's okay," she said at last. "Don't worry. If you want, I'll walk down the road and get us some."

"No, we'll go together," he said quickly. "And I'll buy."

Rayne smiled, ignoring the slight twinge of pain in her cheek. All was forgiven.

* * *

"Dammit, Zora, I need my money!"

Zane's voice through the cellphone was still quite loud in her ear. "I hear ya, bro. And I'm gonna get it to ya Sunday, alright?"

"Look, sweetheart, Gerald's callin' in _my_ bettin' debts, so I'm callin' in yours. And if I ain't got that half-grand buy tomorrow, then I get to talk it out on your ass."

The very idea made Zora's very bones freeze. She'd seen what Zane would do to those who didn't pay in their debts – he wouldn't just stop at her ass on this one.

"Look, man, my money's not gonna be here until Saturday," she said. "And I can't get out until Sunday. So it's gonna have to wait."

"Trust me, kid, it won't. I know where you live, and I will _find_ you, ya hear?"

"Loud n' clear, Zane." She paused for a moment. "If I get you half tomorrow, can I get the rest to you Sunday?"

He stopped in thought, for which she was glad – it was one o'clock in the morning, and everyone was freakin' _asleep._ If that Army-AWOL found her on the phone this late/early, then Zane wouldn't have to look hard to find her – she'd be buried in a shallow grave.

"Alright, only _once,_ okay?" Zane said. "We can't make this a long-drawn-out thing."

"You'll get your money. Don't worry, Zane – I ain't got a death wish."

"I ain't so sure of that, kid – if you were smart, you woulda had the money today."

"I already _told_ you – my money ain't comin' in until Saturday, late Friday if I'm lucky."

"Who _is_ your money, girl?"

"Oh, this chick I'm staying with. She's totally freakin' _loaded_, too. But she works during the week and don't stay here, so I have to wait until Saturday when she's back."

"Nice. Just don't get caught."

"I'm too good for that, Zane. You know that." She hung up on him after that and turned back to Jessi's backpack. Jessi still had the cash that Jink had given her – and she wouldn't miss it. Would she? Psh, naw. She needed this money more than Jessi needed new yarn.

* * *

Jessi couldn't figure out for the life of her how she got sick. Maybe some bug from school? Or the yarn shop? Who the hell knew?

She gave another phlegmy cough and curled up into a ball underneath the blankets she stole from everyone. She was at a loss here – she was so _cold_, but she'd wake up from her small naps she'd get instead of real sleep to find that she not only sweat through her clothes but the sheets on her bed as well. It had pissed her off at first, but being pissed took too much energy. So she just settled with being somewhat upset.

But why was she so cold? She'd taken her temperature this morning and later in the afternoon, and it was sticking to around 101.3.

This sucked. She just got used to life without Mom and Dad and her siblings and her dogs and her books. And now she was fucking _sick._ This was annoying.

Her knees started to bother her, so she started to stretch out. Her knees screamed in protest of the move, so she pulled them back into her chest. It just wasn't fair.

When she was younger, whenever she got sick Mom would stay home from work and sit with her. They'd get to hang out and talk, and it was always comforting to have Mom just stroke her hair or rub her leg or just be _there._ When she got older, Mom stopped staying home, claiming that Jessi could watch herself. That was when she knew her childhood was over.

At that moment, she would've given anything to go back to being eleven, when she could stay home and Mom would stay home and make her feel better.

And the worst part about all this? She was in the middle of reading _The Stand_, and now she was sick. God, every time she read that book she got some psycho-sematic cold that made her think she had Captain Trips. That's all this was, right? Just another mind-cold.

It had to be.

* * *

The woods were a calming influence, for which Daimio was quite glad – if it had been agreed on to stay in the city, he would've gone _insane._ The silence would've been deafening to any other person; he relished the lack of noise. It let him think better.

The girls were getting out of hand. Rayne came home late one night with a huge bruise on her cheekbone, eyes red-rimmed from crying, and a hickie low on her neck. He saw Zora stealing money of of Rayne's purse, and saw her eyeing his wallet. And Jessi's caught some sort of bug and refused to leave her room except for the toilet.

He didn't talk to any of them. They were strangers forced together by happenstance. They had no business with him, and vice versa. He wasn't their father, he wasn't their friend, they barely _knew_ each other. The only thing they had in common with each other was Jink.

And really, what sort of right did Jink have leaving three girls with him? He wasn't some fucking babysitter.

If he was in his right mind, he would leave. Screw Jink, screw the kids, _gone._ Back to Canada. But every time he entertained the thought, all he could think about was the look in Jink's eyes when she accused him of leaving, back on Offut. She was angry, yes, but there was something else in her eyes – desperation? Anxiety?

He couldn't just leave. He just . . . couldn't. Not while knowing that his leaving led to her last meltdown. He'd move on eventually – just not while she needed him.

Some tiny part of him whispered that he stayed because he needed her as much as she needed him, but he refused to believe it. He cared about her, true enough, but he did not need her to be happy. He didn't need her for _anything,_ except maybe a roof over his head. And even then, he could get one if he wanted to go out and get a job. But he was fine with letting her go back to that hellhole. Just fine. She wanted to do it after all – he didn't persuade her.

He just hoped to _God_ that someone had her back – because if she got hurt, then God's wrath wouldn't even begin to cover it.

* * *

**Hey boys and girls! Anyone missed me? I know Markey did – I already know that you got your eye on me. I'M TRYING TO GET THROUGH THIS, MAN. I AM. AND THEN WE'LL SHALL DO AS PLANNED.  
**

**Rawr! I've had so much stuff for college! This is seriously the first time I haven't had homework –ish. I have two different papers I need to edit and print out. *sigh* Hopefully, this is good, da? **

**I HAVE A DEMAND FOR THIS REVIEW: Everyone must leave a song. You heard me. Leave me a song you'll think I'll like, and if I like it, you'll see it featured for a chapter – PLUS a thank-you note in the chapter AND in your inbox! **

**I can has song?And reviews? Puh-leeez?  
**

**~Cap'n Z**


	26. Monster You Made Me

Chapter 26: Monster You Made Me

_Take a good look at me now.  
Do you still recognize me,  
Am I so different inside?_  
~Pop Evil

* * *

Coming home was supposed to be nice. It was supposed to be one of those things where I walked into the door and people were glad to see me. "Oh, Jink! We're so glad to see you! We cooked you some dinner! Sit down and enjoy it!"

Instead, I showed up at three AM to find Rayne and Zora on the couch, both nursing bruised and bloodied body-parts. It even looked like Zora had a broken nose.

And the house was completely trashed.

"What happened?" I demanded.

"Nothin'," Zora said thickly.

"I got into a fight at school," Rayne said quickly. "Nothin' new."

What? _What?_ "Whaddaya mean, "nothin' new"?" I asked.

"It's like the fourth time in the past couple weeks," Zora shrugged. "First time with actual marks."

"And _you?"_ I asked her.

"Uh . . . fell down some stairs."

Uh-huh. Yeah. I totally believe that. That looked like the type of broken nose you'd get if someone just totally _wailed_ on your face. (Don't ask me how I know this. It was a sad, sad day at the Bureau – both for me, and for the fool who though he could jump me.)

"Right." I looked around the living room. Piles of both clean and dirty laundry sat like islands in the sea of hardwood floors. Stacks of dirty dishes covered the small coffee table and what I could see of the kitchen table. The sink was full as well. The counters were covered with opened jelly and peanut butter jars and empty Styrofoam boxes and take-out bags. The house smelled like . . . well, to be frank, it smells like the sewer I was in the other night. "Is there . . . uh . . . a _reason_ the house is a mess?" I asked.

This entire time, my voice had barely risen. But I was pissed beyond belief. Not only because someone had the balls to kicks my kids' asses, but because I came home to a house that looked like five eight-year-olds live in it.

"I haven't been home," Rayne shrugged. "I was with . . . some other kids from class. Tests coming up."

"Ditto," Zora added.

"And Jessi?"

"She's been sick," Rayne said. "Hasn't been up and about for a while."

Okay, they thought I was pissed before? What about _now?_ "How long is _a while,_ Rayne?"

She shrugged.

Well, fuck! "Where's Ben?"

Another shrug. Zora had stopped talking, and was holding her nose while leaning back on the aging couch. Blood was flowing down her shirt.

I stormed through the living room, stopping around the laundry and dishes, going down the small hall and to the first door on the right – that's the girls' room. I flung it open without trepidation.

There were three available sleeping spaces – two bunk beds and a regular twin bed. Jessi was flung out on the twin bed. Her face was flushed and covered with sweat, and the only thing peeking out from under a mound of blankets. Her eyes were glazed over with fever. I didn't even want to touch her forehead, because I could already tell that she was freakin' hot.

But I crouched over her and brushed her hair back. "Jessi?" I asked quickly. "You take anything?"

She barely shook her head.

I ran across the hall to the bathroom and yanked open the mirrored cabinet. Bam – a bottle of Nyquil. I ran back to Jessi and nearly poured it on her by accident. I managed to hold the bottle up to her mouth and make her take a swallow. She coughed at first, but it stayed down.

She turned her fevered gaze on me. "Thanks, Mom," she mumbled.

Hell's bells. She's delirious.

I stalked out of Jessi's room and barged into mine, expecting to find Daimio sleeping. Low and behold, the bed was made. He hadn't slept in it today, and I was willing to bet good money that he hadn't slept in it last night.

"_SONUVABITCH!"_ I shouted. I stormed into the living room, whirling on Zora and Rayne. "_So you don't notice when someone doesn't come out of their room or someone doesn't come home?"_ I yelled.

"Dude, we just got home," Rayne snapped.

Well, that's just snappy, isn't it? It was three AM. "What the hell were you two _doin'?"_

They gave each other knowing looks, but didn't say anything.

That's just fan-freaking-tastic, isn't it? "_God,"_ I sighed. "Both of you – go clean up and come back out here, aye?"

Rayne rolled her eyes and got up, but Zora didn't move. She didn't even look awake. Which meant . . .

"_Damn,"_ I swore, stalking over to her still form and giving her shoulder a vicious shake. "Zora, I do _not_ have the time to take you to the hospital for a concussion. Get your ass _up._"

She opened one weary eye and lifted up one hand to flip me the bird.

She's gonna be fine.

But whoever wrecked my _house_ wasn't going to be.

But I had to take into account how everyone was faring: Daimio was AWOL, Jessi was knocked out with cold medicine, Zora was already asleep, and it'd be cruel and unusual to make Rayne do anything while black-and-blue – this time, anyways.

"Go to bed," I sighed. "I got this. But I swear to God you guys are making it up to me."

* * *

It took me three hours, but the house got clean. Now I got to sit and drink a beer and watch a movie. _Oh_ yeah. What could be better than that?

I peeked outside and saw that the sun was already rising.

Well, damn. There went _my_ night.

I sighed and sagged into the couch. This was just _splendid._ Wasn't it? I spent the first three hours home cleaning up after the people who live here all week, and I'll probably be expected to have breakfast ready or some shit like that. But screw it. I'm taking this morning to _relax._

The back door opened and Daimio walked through.

I bit back my sarcastic questions and pretended I wasn't about to throw my bottle of beer at his head. I pretended not to even see him.

But he saw me (of course). "Hey. How long you been home?"

"A few hours." A shrug. "And where the fuck were _you?"_

He shrugged. Of course. That asshole.

"So you were just . . . _frolickin'_ in the fuckin' woods when one kid gets sick and the other two get their asses kicked?" I demanded.

His face twisted in anger. "I am _not_ their fucking babysitter," he snapped, "And I am _not_ their father. They do what they want, and if they get hurt its their own damn fault."

"So you don't even give a fuck that Jessi's been in her room for God known low long with a fever?" I asked. "Dammit, she could've _died_ or some shit like that!"

"Look, Jink, I don't _do_ kids."

I threw my bottle of beer on the floor, shattering the glass and the liquid in all directions. "Go fornicate with an animal," I growled, and stomped into my bedroom, slamming the door behind me.

Okay, seriously? The whole point of his ass even _being_ here was to help keep an eye on these kids. He acts like keeping an eye on them is a fucking _option._ And it's _not._ The only option is _keeping an eye on the goddman kids!_

God. _God._ That's like, the only word I can think or say at the moment.

Who would beat up two girls? They never did anything to piss- oh wait, never mind. I've seen firsthand how those girls behave around _certain_ people . . . yeah, I can believe that they got their asses handed to 'em. That's what happens when you piss off too many people, or the wrong person at the wrong time.

Huh. Maybe _Jessi_ got ahold of 'em. I'd laugh my ass off if that was the God's honest truth.

What was going _on_ with those guys, anyways? Jessi _never_ got sick. Like, we gave her _raw chicken_ once and she was fine. I took a bite of that mess and I was pukin' for _three days._

And Rayne and Zora never used to lie to me about stuff. About _big_ stuff, anyways. Usually they'd tell me. I'd help them. That's how it went. And now they can't even tell me who beat them up. There's something wrong here.

My eyes started to feel heavy, and I blinked several times to try and get rid of the feeling. It wouldn't go away. And worse, my vision was starting to blur.

I sighed heavily and let myself fall onto the bed. And within minutes, I was asleep.

* * *

**Hey everyone! I know that we've been waiting a long time for this-**

***hail of rotten fruit***

**I'M SORRY! I'm actually supposed to be studying for my**** math test (and there is a danger I may fail so pray for me to at least get a C) but I'm going to do that tonight I guess . . . . yeah . . . .  
**

**ALRIGHT, SO THIS CHAPTER (AND THANK YOU) IS FOR ****MyNamesNotAlice****! WAY TO GO MY FRIEND! LSDNVLSJBEWOJCBFVOWJBDV!**

**Okaaaay . . . FOR SERIOUSNESS . . . . I have the next chapter getting ready to go up. BELIEVE ME IT'S GOING TO GO UP RIGHT AFTER THIS ONE. YEAH.**


	27. The Only Difference

Chapter 27: The Only Difference Between Martyrdom And Suicide Is Press Coverage

_Applause, applause!  
No, wait, wait.  
Dear studio audience, I've an announcement to make.  
It seems the artists these days are not what you think.  
So we'll pick back up on that on another page.  
_~Panic! At The Disco

* * *

**The Frosting Incident**

I sat on the couch, snuggled into the cushions with a smug smirk on my face. Someone had left a can of chocolate frosting on the counter, and it clearly had "JINK" written on it. Well, not really, but you know what I mean. It was the law of the jungle in my kitchen – unless properly defended, _their_ frosting is _my_ frosting.

I was going for the whole enchilada, too – I found a VCR and a stack of VHS tapes in Jessi's closet (I don't want to know, really, I don't.) And right on top? _The Road to El Dorado._ Total win.

So what could be better than a good ol'-fashioned tape, a warm couch, and some chocolate frosting? Nothing. NOTHING, I tell you.

I tossed the lid onto the floor by my feet and just stuck a hand into the frosting. God, this was awesome. I was giggling to myself as I ate the frosting and watched Miguel and Tulio have one hell of an adventure. _Giggling._ That should show how happy I was (or insane I was going).

Daimio walked in just as I popped another finger-full of frosting into my mouth. And for a second, we just stared at each other. I'm sure I looked ridiculous.

"What . . . ?" was all he could say.

I pulled my finger out of my mouth and said, "But . . . it's _Saturday."_

For a second, I thought he was going to smile. I saw it twitching, I swear to god. He said, "You know you have . . . _frosting . . ._ all over . . ." he motioned at the lower half of his face, an eyebrow raised.

Oh. "That's the fun part!" I replied.

He sighed, and came over to sit on the couch. "You're as bad as they are, you know that?" he told me.

"Nu-uh," I retorted, "_They're_ not offering you some chocolate frosting."

He stared at the can skeptically. "No. Just . . . . no."

"C'_mooooooooon!"_ I coaxed. I waved the can of frosting under his nose. "It's _chocolaaaaaaate . . . ."_

He shoved the can out of my hand, and it clattered to the floor. "_NO."_

"_MY FROSTING!"_ Rayne shouted from the kitchen.

I took off like a shot, leaving Daimio with the incriminating evidence. Just as I slammed the bedroom door shut, I heard Rayne shoute, "_WHAT THE FUCK, CAPTAIN UNDERPANTS? THAT WAS MY GODDAMN FROSTING!"_

* * *

**The Spider Incident**

I was just about to put some frozen pizzas into the oven (Martha Stewart I'm not) when I heard a piercing scream.

Jessi.

I dashed out of the kitchen and into the hallway. Jessi had the door slammed shut and she was leaning against it, a look on her face like she just saw a monster.

"What's wrong?" I demanded. Work Jink had come out to play.

"Spider," she panted. "Big one."

I felt my shoulders slump and my breath just _woosh_ out. "You called me out here for a spider?" I asked. _"Really?"_

"_Big."_

I pushed her aside and opened the door . . . and quickly slammed it shut. That fucker was _huge._ I fought monsters for a living, fought frogs and dragons and sea monsters – hell, I've fought a Spider Man! But I drew the line at spiders _bigger than my fucking hand!_

"_WHERE the FUCK did THAT come from?"_ I demanded in a squeaky voice.

"Don't know," was all she'd say.

It was just our luck that Daimio came down the hallway at that time. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"Spider," I said.

"_Big,"_ Jessi added.

He rolled his eyes. "_Please."_ He nudged me aside and opened the bathroom door, and stomped on the spider when it tried to crawl through the doorway. Jessi and I gave undignified shrieks and backed away from the door like it was on fire.

"Jeez, I thought you were the balls of the household?" he snarked. "Can't even smash a spider . . ."

"Shut up, Cap'n, before I throw you to the wolves."

* * *

**The Dr. Pepper Incident (Part I)**

I was bopping over to the fridge, ready to open the door, when I felt something . . . _wrong_ with the universe. You ever feel that? Where you know for a _fact_ that something is wrong? That's it.

I looked around the kitchen. Nothing seemed wrong. The sink had a few dishes in it, but the house was relatively clean. For once. It was quiet, sure, but the TV was on to combat the silence.

Nothing seemed wrong. I proceeded to open the fridge door.

Beer . . .

Beer . . . .

Really _good_ beer . . . (That was Ben's, and I probably wasn't allowed to touch it).

Old pizza . . .

Some lettuce . . . .

Cheese . . .

Someone's taco . . .

Wait a minute. Wait _one goddamn minute._

There is no Dr. Pepper in this fridge.

I repeat:

_NO._

_DR._

_PEPPER._

"WHERE'S MY GODDAMN DR. PEPPER?"I bellowed.

I heard a scurrying in the back bedrooms. _They knew._

I flew through the living room and flung open the bedroom door. Jessi, doing better, was sitting up against the wall, a can of Dr. Pepper in one hand. Rayne and Zora each had a can, and they were giggling to themselves.

"_WHY THE HELL ARE YOU DRINKIN' MY PEPPER?"_ I shouted.

They shrieked in unison, and I winced at the high pitch. Then the pleading began.

"_We're sorry!"_

"_We won't do it again!"_

"_I'M SO SORRY I WANT TO LIVE HAVE MERCY!"_

(That was Jessi, by the way. I didn't punish her.)

* * *

**The Dr. Pepper Incident (Part II)**

I was sitting at the table, hands folded in the picture of neatness, when Daimio walked in through the back door (man has a problem with the front door?).

"Hey," I said.

"Hey."

"So . . . uh . . . when were ya gonna tell me the Dr. Pepper was gone?"

He saw the look in my eyes . . . and ran right back out the door.

"Smart man," I muttered.

* * *

**Some funny stuff for everyone to giggle about . . . oh yeah! **

**SEE? IT'S UP, ISN'T IT? TOLD YOU! I'M NOT A LIAR! HAHAHAHAHA! *falls over asleep*  
**


	28. Forgotten

Chapter 28: Forgotten

_A little piece of paper with a picture drawn  
Floats on down the street 'till the wind is gone.  
And the memory now is like the picture was then.  
When the paper's crumpled up, it can't be perfect again.  
_~Linkin Park

* * *

When I got back to the Bureau, things were in full swing. Agents were running like chickens with their heads cut off. Scientists in their bleached lab coats conversed urgently as they got onto an elevator. Men and women in business suits meandered through the halls, looking amazed and concerned at the same time.

UN people, I suppose.

I brushed past them, trying to rush to my room.

"Wait a second!" one called from behind me.

I paused, shuddered inwardly, and turned. "Yes?"

"Do you work here?" a tall, sharp-looking woman in a gray business suit asked.

"Yes . . . ?"

"Did you just get back from a mission?" she asked. Now her entire group – about a dozen or so men and women – was paying attention to me. Damn.

"No, I just got back from my place," I answered honestly.

"So you're new?"

"No, I've been here since I was, like, four."

"So why are just coming from your home?"

"Kids."

A look of uncertainty flit across their faces. "So you're allowed to have children here?" a man asked.

"They're adopted," I explained. "Their parents died less than a month ago – in Nebraska."

They all immediately looked sorry that they asked. Good. Givin' me the goddamn third degree when I just showed up . . . crazy people being crazy, I suppose. I don't care. I don't want to deal with these crazy-ass UN people. They're going to end up pissing me off, and I'm going to end up yelling, and then I'm going to end up getting yelled at by Manning, Kate, _and_ Abe for yelling at the UN people.

See how long that crazy-ness is? I don't want that.

I started walking away.

"So you were here when _Hellboy_ was here?" someone called.

I sighed, and turned and went back to them. "Yes," I stated, "I was here when Hellboy was here. I worked with him. He was my friend."

"And Liz Sherman?" another woman asked. "I heard she disappeared."

"Worked with her too."

"And what about Captain Daimio?" a tall man asked. "Were you here when he killed all those people?"

Yeesh. Just bringing up all sorts of stuff. "Him too," I sighed. "Yeah, I was here. Got shot trying to save his ass. Which I did anyways."

"And now he's dead?"

"As a doornail." Woo! Trolling the UN people! (_Oh my God I'm spending too much time with Jessi on the computer.)_

"And that thing – that mud man?"

A swell of anger grew, but I tamped it down. "Roger," I said. "He was a homunculus. And now he's dead, yes."

"Though, if he wasn't _human,_ he can't really _die,_ can he?" the first woman mused to the man next to her. "The perfect agent."

I stepped closer to her. "And what's _that_ supposed to mean?" I asked quietly.

"No one better to fight monsters than a monster that was never alive," the man said.

I think I might've snapped. Not too sure. I wasn't paying attention to the sounds in my head. I was more focused on how many times I could hit this man before someone stopped me.

"So what does that make me?" I demanded. "Am I a monster too?"

I shouldn't have asked that question. I didn't want to hear the answer that he would give me. And I think I already knew the answer.

"Like I said," he said finally, "no one better to fight monsters than a monster."

* * *

I stalked into Manning's office and slammed the door behind me. "You best be tellin' those UN people that they need to leave me the _fuck_ alone," I growled, "or someone's gonna _die._"

Someone's gonna get _shot, stabbed, clubbed, and castrated_ and then I'm gonna _chop him into itty-bitty pieces_ and _I am going to enjoy every fucking minute of it._

"Just ignore them, Jink," Manning sighed. He was shuffling through a pile of papers. Must be new stuff I'm supposed to be investigating.

"Pretty hard to ignore 'em when they're asking about _Roger,"_ I spat.

He looked up at me, and it took me a second to realize something: Manning never wanted this. Yes, having UN support meant that we had more resources, and more money for things that we desperately need, but now he had to answer to practically _every single country_, which meant tons more work and tons more problems and tons more people who would be upset if things did not go _exactly_ their way.

At that moment, I felt pretty sorry for him. We'd known each other for years. He was the one person who'd always been here. If anything, he was probably one of my closest friends. Even if we didn't like each other.

I let my shoulders fall as I sank into a chair. "Does _anyone_ like those UN assholes?" I asked.

"They've given us more funding," he said, "And more manpower."

"At what price, our souls?"

He rolled his eyes. "You don't need to be so dramatic."

"I'm not," I retorted. "We're not _us_ anymore. We've changed."

"Everything changes, Jink," he stated. "We're just . . ."

"Answering to a world that views us as monsters," I finished for him. "That's what they told me. _No one better to fight monsters than a monster._" I paused, carefully considering my next question. "Tom, are we monsters for what we do? Are we monsters for killing monsters?"

He sighed and set down the papers. "Jink, how many people do you know that _don't_ work here who could do what you on a daily basis?"

"None."

"Exactly. So don't hold it against them if they can't understand people like us."

I nodded and got up. Before I left, I smiled.

He said people like _us._

Like _us._

Guess I'm not the only one that's been itching to punch out UN people's lights.

* * *

"So we're going after who now?" I asked.

"Her name is Fenix," Abe explained. "And she's leading around this band of teenagers."

"What's so cool about her?"

"She's been able to predict when the frogs will attack and what city," Devon interrupted.

I didn't say anything about his interruption. I was pretty much acting like he wasn't there. I still wasn't all too happy with his behavior of late.

"So . . . we're gonna what? Recruit or shoot?"

"It all depends on who – or _what_ – she is," Abe said.

Ah. So she might be like a frog or something. I wouldn't want to face something like that. But with my luck, not only would she be a monster, but she'd go straight for my throat.

"So how's he doing?" Abe asked conversationally, changing the subject.

"Who?" Devon asked.

"Mutual friend," I shrugged. I didn't have to ask who Abe meant. "Doing fine, I guess. He's at my place now, but we don't talk much. He's always fucking AWOL when I get home."

"Who is it?" Devon asked again. "Is it someone I'd know?"

"Nope," I said.

"So he found you alright?" Abe asked.

"Thanks to you," I quipped. "And about that note . . . God, I thought that he'd be the only one to see it."

"I try not to think about it," he sighed.

"Same here," I muttered.

* * *

Texas is a pretty damn nice place. I shoulda set up shop down here instead of right next to the fucking Bureau. The weather was moderate, a dry heat that didn't scorch, and the sun didn't seem all that annoying.

But then again, there's a massive _volcano_ right smack dab in the middle of the state. That's a bit of a deal-breaker, if you ask me.

Our first stop, thanks to some "intel", was an old football stadium.

And _that_ was a bit of a hit and miss due to the fact that the girl we were looking for was _not there_ – it was only some hobo-looking blond guy sleeping in a bathroom.

And then the frogs broke in and attacked and we're just like, "Dude, really?" and . . . yeah.*

So that's how we ended up at a pool. And old pool – an empty pool.

Filled with vagabond teenagers – including the one we were after.

She was short and skinny, with red hair and piercings. If I had met this girl a few years ago, there was no doubt that I'd end up joining her. But right now, I wasn't comfortable with how she was glaring at Abe with a gun in her hand, and I had my gun trained unerringly on her throat.

But Abe was going for the nice guy approach (_for once in his life,_ I couldn't help but laugh to myself about) by holstering his gun and introducing himself.

I glanced over at Devon. He had his gun out, too, but he held it loosely. Lazily. I wanted to say something to him, but I was straining to keep my gun trained on the girl.

So I was pretty much frozen in place when Fenix lifted up her gun, trained it on Abe, and shot him – in the face.

_BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM!_

The blood . . .

Blood was _everywhere . . ._

The scream that came out of my mouth was not human.

* * *

**Hey guys! Long time, no see, eh? But not as bad as last time! New chapter pretty fast! Yay! I'm alive! But this is only due to the fact that I'm on break until the middle of January, which means MOAR UPDATES! **

***There is supposed to be more to this scene. But SOMEONE IS STEALING MY COMICS. MY COPIES OF **_**BPRD:HOE: NEW WORLD**_** AND **_**GODS**_** ARE MISSING. SO I HAVE NO REFERENCES FOR THIS PART. I AM GOING TO BRUTALLY MUTILATE THE PERSON DOING THIS. I AM NOT JOKING ABOUT THIS – PEOPLE CAN JACK MY HEADPHONES, OR MAKE OFF WITH MY OLD MP3 PLAYER, OR EVEN TRY TO STEAL MY KNITTING NEEDLES, BUT THE MOMENT THEY TOUCHED MY COMICS WITH AN INTENT TO STEAL, THEY DECIDED, "OH HEY, I WANT TO **_**DIE**_** TODAY!**

**Alright, so this chapter, song, and HUGE MASSIVE THANK YOU go to ****RubyDracoGirl****! Ruby, you are one of my only true friends, and I cannot thank you enough for being there for me. You're awesome.**

**I referenced a rage face in the comic, if anyone cares to look . . . **

**~ME  
**


	29. Mercenary

Chapter 29: Mercenary

_So he replies, "Then how do you manage?"  
I dodge a glass and apologize for collateral damage.  
How does it feel to stand on the very stones that ran with your parents' blood?  
Do you feel sad? Full of rage?  
_~Panic! At The Disco

* * *

I dropped my gun and dove to the ground, unsure of what I could do to help. I was never really trained in the art of emergency first-aid, which I was totally _regretting_ now.

And the _blood . . ._ I could feel myself starting to get sick from the smell. Or it could have been from the fact that the lifeblood was draining from one of the few people I cared about.

I didn't have anything on me to use to stop the blood. We both had on bullet-proof vests (and of _course_ that _bitch_ had to shoot him in the _face_), and I had left my jacket behind when we got off the chopper. I thought about using my sock or something, but that'd just be _gross._ I ended up tossing off my vest and using my shirt, pressing it against one of his bullet wounds as hard as I dared.

"_HELP!"_ I screamed. I looked around frantically, but everyone was busy "detaining" some punk teenagers.

Except Devon.

He was staring at where that _bitch_ had been standing, not moving.

"_DAMMIT DEVON!"_ I screamed at him, "_HELP ME!"_ I looked back down at Abe. "Gotta hold on, man," I said lowly, "You gotta hold on, someone's coming, _please_ hold on, man." My hands were shaking. I should've shot that bitch when I had the chance. I should be _chasing_ her and making her _pay._ But there's just so much fucking _blood._ I was going to be sick.

And Devon was standing there, staring at me like I just grew a second head.

"_SOMEBODY FUCKING HELP ME!"_

By that time, a pair of medics saw the growing pool of blood and rushed over. One of them practically picked me up and moved me out of the way, and I just sat there, staring at the blood on my hands.

Abe's blood.

Oh _God._

* * *

They told me I was in shock. I couldn't figure out why. I've been shot, sliced, and nearly killed on a daily basis for years, and only went into shock, like, once. But now one of the bigger things during my first month back and I'm acting like someone just cut off a leg.

Someone had generously tossed a blanket over my shoulder, and had wiped most of the blood off of my hands, but I could still see the faint outline of it, and I couldn't stop staring at them.

The next few moments were a blur. Someone was shaking my shoulder.

"Jink? Wanna come in?"

I looked over and saw Kate sitting next to me. I didn't even realize that the chopper had landed. And here I was, just sitting like a lump on a log.

"He's going to be okay, you know," she said gently.

I shook my head. "I shoulda chased her, Kate," I whispered. "I could've got her."

"Don't worry – we'll get her," she assured me. "Everything will be fine."

* * *

I ran into Devon walking through the hall. I had scrubbed my hands until a layer of skin came off and found a long-sleeved shirt decent for hiding . . . yeah. He still looked as prim and proper as he did when he climbed onto the chopper.

I went up to him and punched him in the face.

I won't deny that it felt pretty damn nice to hit him.

He stumbled and fell, holding a hand to his now bleeding nose. "What the hell was _that_ for?" he demanded.

"It was your fault," I growled. It had all clicked into place a few minutes ago, and once it did, I nearly heaved. _Again._ "You _want_ Abe to die. She was just a convenient way of keeping your hands clean."

"I don't know what you _mean!"_ he insisted, scrambling to stand up.

"We all know you're the one bandying about the idea of Abe as the anti-Christ and all that crap," I elaborated. "You didn't like him at all since that little incident. And now some chick agrees with you and pulls the trigger for you. _That_ is why you didn't go after her, _or_ help Abe."

By that time, we had attracted quite a crowd. And I still didn't give a fuck.

"If anyone deserved to get shot today, Devon, it'd be you," I finished.

That's probably one of the worst things I've ever said to someone. Well, scratch that – one of the worst things that I actually _meant._ But I said it, and there's no unsaying anything. My opinion of Devon has been tossed into the air.

"You weren't there when we went underground," Devon said. "All those creatures – that thing, and what it said-"

He got cut off by my open palm smacking his right cheek. "Devon, you keep going, I'm going to have to hurt you pretty bad."

I was actually going to say _kill you,_ but I figured if these people heard that then they'd go get Manning. And I'm not done yet.

The look in his eyes let me know that he knew _exactly_ what I was going to say, and he straightened. "You don't realize how things have been, Jink," he said. "You were off living a _normal_ life, and we were here fighting. You don't even_ know_ how bad things have gotten."

"But I know that once we can't trust each other the battle's already lost," I said. "The ol' "divide and conquer" technique, right?" I stepped so I was right up in his face. "Once you lose trust in people, you turn paranoid, and then people get killed."

"What about you?" he asked. "You obviously don't trust me."

"I don't count," I countered. "I'd still save your ass even if I _hated_ you. And I was paranoid to begin with."

* * *

"You gotta make it, Abe," I slurred. "You just _gotta_. We got no one left here, and it _sucks."_

I had liberated a six-pack of beer and had already glugged my way through half of it. Doctors had put Abe in their Mystical Water-Tube of Healing, hooked up to all these electrodes and shit, and I didn't want him to be all alone. Abe told me once about how when the Bureau first found him they put him in a tube like this and ran all these tests, and I figured, "Oh hey, if he wakes up he's gonna freak unless someone he knows is here," and I know that he'd probably prefer Kate over me but she's busy and I'm too worried to sleep.

And that thought was a total run on.

Whatever.

"You're the only good one left," I mumbled. "I'm an asshole. I can admit that. And Devon is a bigger one. And those UN jackasses need to get a life."

I sighed and leaned against the wall. I was sitting on the floor. (And yes, I was well aware that at that distance Abe probably couldn't hear me. Whatever.) It was the closest I could get to him.

"I don't think I could take it if you kicked the bucket. And they say that you won't. I want to believe them, 'cuz Kate says that you came back from the dead before, and Johann said that _yes_ you were actually dead and you're not now, but this was too close."

A thought hit me. "You should come to my place sometime," I said. "I'll order a pizza – you don't want to see me try to cook. I'll introduce you to the family. Ben'd be happy to see you."

I wonder how Daimio would react to this. He and Abe were friends, right?

"Look, man, you just gotta pull through," I said again. "If you don't, I don't know what I'd do. 'Cuz then I'd be stuck with _Devon._ And then I'd kill him. Abe, if you die, I'd end up going to _jail._"

Though I doubt he'd care. He might be a tiny bit upset that I killed Devon, but then he'd be like, "Whatever, it's just like she left again."

Ouch. I just stung myself.

"And I know that you never really liked me all that much, but you're my _friend,_ man, and I need you to be here. _Please._"

I threw the empty can to the side and popped open a new one.

"You can't give up on me now, man. You lived through all that crap to be taken down by a teenager? That's an insult.

Just don't give up. _Please."_

* * *

__

God, I hate alarm clocks. I reached out blindly and tried to find the damn thing, but all I found was bare floor.

_What?_ I thought, _Did I pass out on the kitchen floor or something?_ _I don't remember doing that . . ._

I cracked open a bleary eye and watched numbly as people rushed around. I didn't really understand what was going on. People in a science lab rushing around? What else is new? I closed my eyes and tried to go back to sleep. (Do I need to mention I was a tiny bit hung over? I don't think so. But I was. That's a warning, boys and girls – don't drink and fall asleep. It's bad for your brain.)

Then I heard a splashing sound. Water. People talking urgently.

I heard the words _stopped breathing._

Those words were never good. I jumped up, eyes wide open, and tried to take in the scene before me.

They had pulled Abe out of the Magical Water-Tube of Healing (Good Lord, I need a better name for that thing) and were preforming CPR.

I just stood and watched.

But they kept going . . .

And _going . . . _

And _going . . . ._

I think I greyed out there for a bit, because the next thing I knew they had him back in the Magic Tube of Awesome. But they were standing around muttering to themselves. Like something was still wrong.

"What happened?" I called.

One of the scientist/doctor people turned and jumped, like he just realized I had gotten here.

"How long have you been here?" he asked.

"All night . . . what's wrong?"

He looked around nervously, eyes carefully kept from mine. I knew this action – I've done it before. He's hoping that someone in greater authority can come and handle the crazy chick so he wouldn't be the one to break the bad news.

"_What happened?"_ I demanded.

"Mr. Sapien crashed," the doctor said carefully.

My brain was still fuzzy from sleep and beer, so I said, "Crashed? Explain this to me, please."

"He stopped breathing," the doctor explained. "We managed to get it started again, but by the time we did, his brain had shut down due to lack of oxygen."

What? _What?_ "So what's that mean?" I asked quietly.

"I'm sorry, but he's gone."

* * *

Devon was in the cafeteria, drinking coffee alone at a table next to the wall. I stalked over to him, physically picked him up by his shirt collar, and threw him to the floor.

"_Murderer!"_ I hissed. I aimed a kick at his side, but he moved out of the way, making me land awkwardly. He managed to roll onto his hands and knees so he could stand up and get away from me. I dove after him, and even though I was a bit sluggish, I managed to grab him by his coat again and slam his head into the wall.

"What are you _talking_ about?" he shouted. "Abe is _fine!"_

"_ABE'S DEAD!"_ I shouted, slamming his head into the wall again. A sob ripped through me and I backed up from him. "He's _dead,"_ I repeated in a quieter voice.

Tears _hiissssssed_ as they hit the floor. Devon didn't say anything. Neither did the odd-dozen of people sitting and watching.

"_Are you fucking happy now?"_ I demanded. "_Are you?"_

"I-I didn't – I mean, how did he . . . the doctors said he was going to be okay!" Devon insisted.

I shook my head. "He's dead," I managed to whisper. "_Dead."_

"I'm sorry," he said quietly.

"You're not," I countered. "Not yet. But you _will_ be." I held up my hands and let the electricity start to spark. I kept my eyes on his, and watched as the fear grew. He knew that I was ready to kill him.

"Jink!"

And I was going to do it.

"_Jink!"_

No regrets. Not after what he'd done.

"_JINK!"_

A rubber-gloved hand grabbed my arm.

I looked over and saw Kate, with Manning standing behind her.

I stopped the light show. "He'd dead, Kate," I whispered hoarsely.

"I know, Jink."

"And it's Devon's fault."

"I know."

I looked around the cafeteria. People were still staring. And I never felt more tired than I felt at the moment.

"I think I'm going to go home for a bit."

* * *

I still felt like crap when I pulled up to the cabin. But hopefully the girls and Daimio were home, and they would help me feel better. Someone had to, right?

That's what I was expecting, anyways.

But I wasn't expecting a total mess once I opened the door.

* * *

**DON'T GET UPSET WITH ME, MY LOVELIES, BUT THIS IS THE TRUTH.**

**People officially "dead" in the BPRD fandom:**

-**Roger  
-Hellboy ( he saves the world and then gets dragged to Hell. I never cried in a comic book shop before that.)  
-Abe** **Sapien  
**-(**Does Johann count, since he's dead? But he's still partying around . . . being a creeper . . .)**

**ALRIGHT, so . . . yeah. I would like to thank ****RubyDracoGirl**** and ZipperWhippersnapper for reviewing las****t chapter! Yeah! (And thank you for the wonderous comment, Zipper! I totally understand what you mean. There are days when I look back at what I wrote and I'm like, "-.- I hope no one I ever try to work for sees this . . .")**

**THE NEXT CHAPTER IS TO BE COMING SOON, BUT I HAVE WORK I'M SUPPOSED TO BE DOING NOW . . . BUT I LOVE YOU ALL.**


	30. Need You Now

Chapter 30: Need You Now

_Another shot of whiskey, can't stop staring at the door . . .  
'Cuz I'm hopin' you'll come sweeping in the way you did before.  
It's a quarter after one, I'm a little drunk and I need you now.  
_~Sparks The Rescue (cover)

* * *

Once again, my home was a mess. Clothes and personal affects that weren't mine were strewn across the room. I could count at least six different plates on the coffee table, and either an impressive amount of chocolate syrup or an alarming amount of blood was spilled across the couch. The table had the remains of four pizza boxes, and – I kid you not – a trio of mice nibbling on the leftovers. And the counter was once again overflowing with dishes.

The breath _whooshed_ out of me as I sank to my knees. I couldn't handle this. On top of the day that I've had – the _week_ that I've had – I couldn't handle this. I wasn't going to do this. Not today.

You know what? I was gonna handle to. And if I wasn't going to get any sleep because of _them,_ they weren't getting any sleep because of _me._

I got up and went into the kitchen. Yep, my radio with the iPod plug-in was still sitting there. Perfect. I dug out my iPod and plugged it in, turning it to the best rock-out-loud song I could think of – and turned it as loud as it would play.

"_I HEARD A KNOCK UPON MY DOOR THE OTHER DAY.  
I OPENED IT TO FIND YOU STARIN' IN MY FACE.  
THE FEEL OF MORTAL STOCK IT STILL REVERBERATES.  
EVERYWHERE I GO I DRAG THIS COFFIN JUST IN CASE."_

The music made the windows shake. That should wake 'em. I flung open the fridge and pulled out the last six pack of beer and cracked open the first one. Who cared that I was still hung over? Who cared that this was Ben's beer and not mine? Not me.

"_MY BODY'S TREMBELIN' SEND SHIVERS DOWN MY SPINE.  
ADRENALINE KICKS IN SHIFTS INTO OVERDRIVE.  
YOUR SECRETS KEEP YOU SICK YOUR LIES KEEP YOU ALIVE.  
SNAKE EYES EVERY SINGLE TIME YOU ROLL WITH CROOKED DICE._

"_I FELT THE DARKNESS AS IT TRIED TO PULL ME DOWN.  
THE KIND OF DARK THAT HAUNTS A HUNDRED-YEAR-OLD HOUSE.  
I WRESTLED WITH MY THOUGHTS I SHOOK THE HANDS OF DOUBT.  
RUNNIN' FROM MY PAST I PRAY, "AND FEET DON'T FAIL ME NOW.""_

I noisily stacked the dishes and started water in the sink. Any minute now, they'd wake up and realize that Jink was home and Jink was _pissed._ This was worse than when they drank all my Dr. Pepper. _And I will make them pay._

I manically sang along with the song.

"_I'VE LOST MY GODDAMN MIND.  
IT HAPPENS ALL THE TIME.  
I CAN'T BELIEVE I'M ACTUALLY MEANT TO BEEEEE!  
OH! TRYIN' TO CONSUME!  
THE DRUG IN ME IS YOU!  
AND I'M SO HIGH ON MISERY,  
CAN'T YOU SEE?"_

I was splashing water on the floor and bubbles on the wall, but who gave a damn? The dishes were getting done. That's all that mattered.

The front door flung open and Daimio walked through, mad as hell.

"_What the fuck is wrong with you?"_ he seethed. "_I can hear you fucking radio from half a block away!"_

Heh.

"_I'VE GOT THESE QUESTIONS ALWAYS RUNNIN' THROUGH MY HEAD.  
SO MANY THINGS THAT I WOULD LIKE TO UNDERSTAND.  
IF WE ARE BORN TO DIE AND WE ALL DIE TO LIVE,  
THEN WHAT'S THE POINT OF LIVING LIFE IF IT JUST CONTRADICTS?"_

I ignored him. Instead, I took a long drink from a can of beer and threw it to the floor, empty.

"_I FELT THE DARKNESS AS IT TRIED TO PULL ME DOWN.  
THE KIND OF DARK THAT HAUNTS A HUNDRED-YEAR-OLD HOUSE.  
I WRESTLED WITH MY THOUGHTS I SHOOK THE HANDS OF DOUBT.  
RUNNIN' FROM MY PAST I PRAY, "AND FEET-"_

The song cut off and I whirled around. He stood there, the radio unplugged, totally _radiating_ anger.

And I was in the mood to beat it.

"What the _fuck_ is _wrong_ with you?" he demanded again.

"What the fuck is wrong with _you?"_ I repeated, voice rushing in anger and slurring in insobriety. "I go to _work_ for a week and don't even get to fucking _enjoy_ due to all the _assholes_ there and then I come home and find that _my home_ is a total _fucking mess._ _What. The. Hell?_"

"I already told you I'm not here to babysit!" he snapped.

"_And am I asking you to fucking babysit?"_ I shouted. _"I'm asking you to keep my house clean while I take care of everything else!"_

I reached for another beer. He started towards me – to stop me, I supposed – and I reached into the dishwater and pulled the first thing my hand fell on.

A spatula.

"Stay _away_ from _me,"_ I hissed lowly.

"You're going to stop me with a spatula?" he asked incredulously.

"Damn straight."

Something must've clicked – I could see it in his eyes. "What happened?" he demanded.

"Wouldn't ya like to know?" I quipped.

"I would, actually."

I was going to tell him – really, I was – but then a door down the hall opened and Zora peeked her head into the kitchen. Her eyes were half-open, and she had total bed-head.

"Yo?" she yawned, "What's wrong, cupcake?"

"_Why is my house always a fucking mess?"_ I yelled at her.

"Fuck this shit I'm going back to bed," she groaned, turning on her heel and walking back to her room.

"_ANSWER ME, DAMMIT!"_ I screamed.

"_SHUT UP!"_ Rayne yelled back.

"_GET OUT HERE AND MAKE ME!"_

There was the sound of someone fumbling around, and now Rayne was peeking into the kitchen, a look of irritation mixing with the look of a complete lack of sleep.

"You're pissing me off worse than Jessi, you know that?" she dead-panned.

"She still doin' okay?" I asked. She was fine when I left, but living in this hellhole . . . who knows.

"Dunno," she shrugged. "She left for the hospital an hour ago. Said she wasn't feelin' right."

"_SO YOU LET HER WALK IN THE FUCKING SNOW WHEN SHE WASN'T FEELIN' GOOD BY HERSELF?"_

"_God,"_ she moaned, "Fuck this shit I'm going to bed." And then she walked away.

"Great, so now I have to go find Jessi," I growled. I slammed the spatula back into the water. "Someone better be cleaning this house when I come back."

I pushed past Daimio and went out the door. I angrily started up the car and drove off into the snow.

I felt buzzed and hung over at the same time. That's not a feeling I'm ever willing to repeat, but there was nothing I could do about it now. I was stuck with it.

Marie appeared in the seat next to me. I was expecting this.

"You were never real, were you?" I asked.

"Nope." As I watched her through the corner of my eye, I saw her features morph – she got shorter, her eyes changed, her hair got darker and longer. Before I knew it, I was staring my seventeen-year-old self in the face.

"You're the voice."

"Correct-amundo!" she said with joy. "Missed me?"

"'Course not, bitch," I sighed. "Just got used to not hearing you."

"Aw, missed you too, baby," she simpered.

"I won't be able to get rid of you this time, will I?"

"Nope!" She leaned over until she was just an inch from my ear. "Just you and me against the world, eh Jinkies?"

I started to press the gas pedal farther. "No," I said, "I don't think so."

A curve was coming up. A blind curve. I closed my eyes and let my hands relax.

"What are you doing?" she asked urgently.

"Going for a trip," I said simply.

When the care went over the edge, for a second I thought I was flying. And then it hit the ground with a heavy _thud._

That's when everything went dark. Not "close my eyes" dark.

"Seeing the light at the end of the tunnel" dark.

* * *

**DUN-DUN-DUUUUNNNNNNNN!**

**Alright, so hopefully you were expecting that piece about Marie - I've had it planned for a while - but Markey tells me it was obvious so I apologize. **

**BUT LOOK, ANOTHER UPDATE. YAY FOR EVERYONE.**

**The song is "The Drug In Me Is You" by Falling In Reverse. I apologize for offensiveness, but I knew I wanted a loud song there and I forgot which song so I randomly picked one and then by the time I was done writing the last sentence I remembered that I wanted to used "Kill All Your Friends" by MCR but I think I'll save that for something else. *gasp*  
**


	31. Nightmare

Chapter 31: Nightmare_  
Can't wake up in sweat,  
'Cuz it ain't over yet.  
Still dancin' with your demons!__**  
**_~Avenged Sevenfold

* * *

Fire.

Pain.

_Excruciating_ pain.

That's what I felt when I woke up.

It felt like my very _soul_ was on fire. It was all I could do to scream with agony. I couldn't feel any part of my body - only _pain._ I never knew that there was a pain this bad. I didn't want to open my eyes, because I knew where I was and I didn't want to see it.

I was in Hell.

All I wanted to know was how the hell did _that_ happen? What did I do? I thought I lead a good life. Didn't I? I helped people. I saved people from monsters. I didn't kill people – I killed monsters. Didn't that warrant the beautiful place I saw the last time I was on this side of the grave?

What is the _deal?_

* * *

In the blink of an eye, the fire was gone. I was back by that pool in Texas. Standing exactly where I had been the day that Abe was shot. Déjà vu – there I was, gone trained on her throat, and Abe was still alive.

But I was frozen. I couldn't pull the trigger.

So I got to watch again as Fenix raised her gun and shot Abe in the face.

* * *

The scene changes. Now I'm standing in the middle of a battle field that's swimming in blood. Dead creatures of inhuman origin lie scattered as far as the eye could see.

I look around, and my breath catches in my throat when I see Hellboy standing just across the way. There's a red-haired woman with him whom I've never met, but who cares? Hellboy!

I start to run towards him, about to call his name –

- When I see a dark hand come from the ground, reach into his chest, and pull out his heart.

* * *

Now I'm in a building that I have never seen before. It's old, and decrepit, and smells of death. There's snow, but I am not cold. I think I might me on a mountain, but I'm not too sure – I'm still reeling from reliving the deaths of Abe and Hellboy, and I'm scared of who I know I'm going to see next.

A group of people rounded a pile of rubble, and my suspicions were confirmed.

It was a group of BPRD agents . . . . led by Roger.

I pressed a hand over my mouth and tried to stop myself from screaming. I didn't need to see this. I didn't _want_ to see this. But I was forced to watch.

They were all talking amongst themselves before they noticed the Blake Flame standing in the corner. And then _BOOM!_ Explosion. The building was coming down.

But of course, I was there long enough to see Roger torn to pieces by the blast.

* * *

I fell heavily onto a ground of packed dirt. I had my face buried in my hands, silent tears streaming down my cheeks. This . . . this . . . _lord._ I couldn't even form a coherent sentence or thought. But I had to do something. I don't think I can take this crap anymore.

I looked around, my heart beating in double time. I knew this place. I knew these wooden shacks. I knew that wooden building. I knew that outdoor latrine.

"_Fuck."_

Mexico.

I'm in fucking _Mexico._

I scrambled to my feet and started backing up (to where, I don't know. Reflex, I suppose). This was impossible. I was dead. How the fuck did I end up in Mexico?

"I hope you're happy, Jink."

I looked behind me, and low and behold stood Elektra. Man, haven't seen her in ages! She still looked the same – taller than me, with dark hair and hazel eyes, dressed in a black toga-thing-a-ma-bob.

And she looked at me like I was the most disappointing human on the face of the earth.

"You really did it this time," she continued.

"What did I do?" I asked. "I haven't changed, have I?"

"You went and killed yourself again," she sighed. "And you stopped believing in me a long, long time ago. I no longer have a claim on your soul Which means you end up here."

"So _wait_ a second," I said slowly, "If I don't believe in _anything,_ I get tossed into _Hell?_ How the hell does _that_ work?"

"It's just the rule, Jink," Elektra said. "There's nothing I can do. You're just stuck here."

I looked around. "So I get stuck in fucking _Mexico?_"

"If it's any consolation, I'm sorry," she sighed. "And if you check around, I think you'll see a familiar face." She started to fade from view until she was gone.

What did she mean, _familiar face?_ Unless . . . _no._ It couldn't be. She didn't mean . . . _him._

I turned to run – and ran right into someone else. About twenty, with black hair and eyes, moderately muscular, a head taller than me. And right now he was smiling at me in a way a man would smile at a good meal.

"Aw _fuck!"_ I snapped, rushing backwards again.

"Hello to you too," Astaroth replied. "Glad to see you in _my_ neck of the woods, Jink."

I wrapped my arms around myself to hold me together. I was starting to fall apart. I couldn't handle this.

"Speechless, I see," he grinned. "Don't worry – I have you here for a long, _long_ time. You have all the time in the _world_ to say something to me."

I shook my head. "No," I said to myself, "Can't be. I'm seeing things." I put my hands over my eyes. "I'm dreaming. I'm still alive and in the middle of a nightmare. A fucking _nightmare."_

Suddenly he was in front of me, pulling my hands from my eyes, still wearing that shit-eating grin.

"You're dead, Jink" he insisted. "The faster you accept it, the faster you can enjoy it."

I wrenched my hands from his and backed up. "I'm a little _fuzzy_ on how someone enjoys _Hell!"_ I snapped.

"It's not all that bad," he shrugged. "You learn to deal."

I shook my head and turned to run. He was standing in front of me again. I stopped myself from running into him, my feet skidding in the dirt.

"You can't escape me, Jinkies," he said quietly, moving closer to me. "I'm _everywhere._ I'm the air that you're breathing. I'm the dirt beneath your feet, and the sky above your head."

I turned to run again, and run straight into his chest. His arms lock around me, holding me against him, and I cannot get away.

"I'll always be here, Jink," he whispered. "In your _heart. _In your _skin._ In your _head._ You won't get rid of me this time. I _promise."_

Fear makes me desperate. Desperation lends strength. I struggle against him, trying to escape, but it's not use. I'm trapped.

"_Somebody help me!"_ I screamed. "_Anyone! PLEASE!"_

"No one here but you and me, Jink," he said. "And it's going to _stay_ that way."

"_IS ANYBODY OUT THERE?"_ This had to be a joke. A fucking joke, that's all.

"No one's coming to save you. You're alone."

I had to do something. I managed to stuff a hand into my pocket. You can always find crap in your pockets. And anything would be helpful.

My hand closed around the wooden handle of my pocket knife . . . and I smiled. If my plan worked, then I'd be free. If it didn't . . . well, I guess I can say that I didn't go down without a fight. And if one must go down, that's all that matters.

I carefully pulled it out of my pocket and started to flip it open.

"What are you doing?" he asked, loosening his grip.

"Getting ready to give you a present," I said.

He finally let go of me. "Yes?"

I shoved the knife up to the handle into his stomach. "Surprise!"

He looked down at the knife as I pulled it out, and then looked back to me. "Are you kidding me?" he asked

"Possibly. Or maybe I'm stalling." I put the knife to my own throat.

"That's not going to do anything," he informed me.

"I can try," I insisted.

"I told you already – you're _dead._ There's nothing you can do."

"I can sure as hell try." I pressed the knife harder to my throat.

"I won't stop you."

"Good." And with that, I slit my own throat. It took a few seconds for me to bleed out, but soon I was blacking out. The death of the dead.

"I'll be seeing you soon," was the last thing I heard.

* * *

The next thing I saw when I opened my eyes was a wide-open white sky. No clouds. No blue. I was a comic-book character on a blank canvas.

"Well, shoot, girl! If you didn't like that place so much then why'd you go down there?"

I sat up and looked around. The entire world was white. The ground felt smooth – almost paper-like – and there was no scenery – just a line justifying the horizon.

And a man standing close. He sat atop a horse, and looked almost like a cowboy. Huh. One desert for another? Along if that asshole demon wasn't around, it was quite alright with me.

"'S'not like I had a choice," I mumbled, standing up.

"Not what I heard," he replied.

"Who are you, anyways?" I asked, eyeing him critically.

He raises an eyebrow and gives me a look that said, "I gotta explain this to you?"

"Well, damn," I sighed, shoulders slumping. "Didn't expect to run into _you_ here."

"Why not?"

"Well . . . I got tossed into _Hell. _I thought it was obvious you didn't want me _here!"_

He shrugged. "Not my call."

"B-but . . . but . . . _what?"_

He shrugged again, and then said "But you're right, kiddo – I _don't_ want you here. I think I'm gonna send you back."

"Down _there?"_

"To Earth, yes." He spat into the dirt beside the horse. "But don't think opportunities like this happen every day, now."

"Of course not, sir." I was blown away by his offer. I was going to come back to life? Damn, how many times is this gonna happen in the Bureau?

"Good luck, kid."

* * *

_Look into my eyes, Lawrence. You can see I'm quite dead._

Huh. Hell of a line to come up with while lying in snow.

Wait . . . snow? Snow! I'm alive, folks! Alive! ALIVE!

And then I was hit by the pain.

* * *

**Alright! She's alive! Huzzah! **

**Alrighty, despite the awesome song I used for the chapter, I listened to a few key songs for this – all from All Time Low: UNDER A PAPER MOON, I FEEL LIKE DANCIN', and GUTS.**

**Well . . . . HAPPY HOLIDAYS IF I DON'T SEE YOU BEFORE CHRISTMAS!**

**(PS – the line from above came from a famous movie! Cookies and a neat-o prize to whoever can name which!)**

**AND NOW I AM QUITE UPSET. MyNamesNotAlice JUST TOLD ME ABOUT THE NEXT BPRD ARC - WHERE JOHANN GOES SEARCHING FOR DAIMIO IN HIS MYSTICAL WOODS SO HE CAN TAKE HIM OUT.**

**YOU KNOW WHAT JOHANN? WE'RE NOT FRIENDS ANYMORE. I HOPE THAT DARYL THE WENDIGO EATS YOU SO YOU TURN INTO SAID WENDIGO AND DIE A HORRIBLE PAINFUL DEATH BECAUSE THAT'S WHAT ASSHOLES LIKE YOU DESERVE. I UNFRIEND YOU. YOU NEED HELP. LEAVE ME ALONE. GO DIE SOMEWHERE.**

***breath***

**Sorry 'boot that. As you can see, I'm quite upset.  
**


	32. Meant To Die

**LADIES AND GENTLEMEN . . . there is a question/announcement/poll at the bottom of this chapter! Please participate! And would a Mr. MARKEY please CONTACT me!**

* * *

Chapter 32: Meant To Die

_Sure, I've lost my mind.  
But I never really meant to die.  
_~The Used

* * *

Something was wrong. I could feel it. It felt like my lower right leg was on fire. I tried to wiggle my toes, but . . . nothing. I couldn't feel anything. That was never good. On top of that, I felt like someone threw me onto a pile of ice-cold broken glass and rolled me around in it, and then stomped on me to top it off.

But I was breathing. I was alive. _Alive._ When facing something as horrific as Hell, being alive is pretty damn nice. I was willing to be in pain if it meant that I could breathe this sweet air and actually see the ones I love later. That's worthy of almost anything.

The screaming wail of sirens grew loud in my ears. Sirens? This high in the mountains? I should be expecting a helicopter. I'm hallucinating. Ain't that grand? Or maybe I'm not. Who knows, right?

The sirens stop, and soon I am looking into the face of a young man with short red hair and freckles. He couldn't be more than twenty-one if he's a day. He's looking me over, and I guess that I must look a sight – I'm outside a crashed car, and I don't remember putting on a jacket when I stalked out the door.

"Ma'am?" he asked hurriedly, "can you hear me?"

I picked up a heavy hand and motioned him to come closer. He obligatedly leaned down so his ear was a few inches from my mouth.

"_Look . . . into my eyes, Lawrence . . ."_ I whispered, "_You can see . . . that I am . . . quite dead."_

Ah. So _that's_ why that line popped into my head. Huh. Guess it's as good a place as any to use it. I couldn't help but grin to myself. I felt high, and I realized I was – high on life. The sheer fact that I was alive when just moments ago I was dead was enough to intoxicate me.

And even though it's an awesome feeling, I hope none of you folks feel it.

"She's going into shock," the young man said to someone just out of my view.

So this is what shock feels like? I didn't feel any different. Except for a little numb, but I think that was the snow. No . . . I don't think I was in shock. Maybe this guy needed to go back to med school. Or I needed a course. Who knew?

"Ma'am, I need you to stay awake," the young man was saying loudly. I think I was spacing. Was I spacing? Yeah . . . I think so. It's a natural defense for pain, I guess. My brain was like, "Okay, dude, something's busted and it needs to be fixed, so _you're_ going for a little nap while I get shit done around here, and there's not gonna be any no's or but's about it." And I was going with it.

So that's how I ended up in the back of an ambulance. This was the first time I'd ever been in one – it was exciting. There were all sorts of small compartments for random stuff and it was so _cramped._ How could those guys ride back here? There's barely enough room for _me._

I don't know if they tried to ask me anything – if they did, I didn't hear them. I spaced out some more.

You guys ever notice how hard it is to find good tomatoes unless you grow them yourself? I grew them a couple years back, and they were the best damn tomatoes you could ever find. I tried to buy some in the store last weekend, and they were too squishy and tasteless and they ruined my bacon. I wonder if I could talk Manning into letting us try to grow tomatoes . . .

And that reminds me of something else: bacon. There's someone at the Bureau who takes a whole new pack of bacon, opens it, takes _two pieces_ and then puts the thing back in the fridge. He ruined a whole pound of bacon for two measly pieces. You don't do that! When I was at the store, I saw that this particular pack of bacon was going for almost four dollars! That person wasted money! You can't do that! Not in _this _economy, anyways.

"_Ma'am!"_

Red-haired-guy's voice broke me out of my mental rant. Oh yeah, forgot I was in an ambulance for a second there.

"Ma'am, do you have anyone you want us to all for you?" he asked.

Huh. Do I want Kate worrying about me? Probably not – she's got her hands full with dealing with my mess I left behind. Was that only a few hours ago? Seems like a lifetime. Could have them call Daimio – so he at least knew I was alive.

My head was starting to go. They could get the number from my phone.

"House," I whispered. "Phone in right pocket."

Yep, I always keep it in my right pocket, and my wallet and iPod in the left. I wonder how that fared . . . if something happened to my iPod, I might just throw a tantrum here and now.

"Ma'am, you don't _have_ a right pocket anymore," he said quickly, "so just give me the number."

As I repeated the numbers for the phone at the house, all I could think of was that I had no right pocket. No right pocket? How can someone be missing a right pocket? Did my pants come off during the crash? Or – Heaven forbid – someone came by and _took_ them off? And what of my iPod?

I wanted to worry about these things, but my brain decided that this is where I needed to sleep, so I slept.

* * *

When I woke up again, I was in a sterile-white hospital room. Usually, this would've ticked me off to _no_ end, but I was on some pretty heavy pain-killers, so I was more like, "Hospital? Whatever."

And I was still a little buzzed from the fact that I was alive. _Alive._ And _not_ in the pit of evil known as Hell. Man . . . just . . . wow. I will never take life for granted again.

"I hope you're happy with yourself, Jink."

I looked over and saw Daimio sitting in the chair next to the hospital bed. He looked pissed. And I'm sure I was wearing a goofy-ass grin.

"Bet your ass I am," I quipped.

"So happy that you drove your fucking _car_ off the fucking _road?"_

Oh yeah . . . forgot about that little piece if information. Whoops.

"Yeah . . . about _that . . ."_ I grimaced. How do explain myself? I don't even know where to begin.

_Everyone around me is dying. I couldn't take it anymore. I honestly don't know why I drove off the road. But I started hallucinating again, and I knew that I couldn't live with the crap I was dealing with. And coming home to find the house a mess when I was already emotionally unstable doesn't help, either._

Those were the words I wanted to say. The words I longed to say aloud. But I stayed quiet.

"I thought there might be something _wrong_ with you when you try to _kill_ yourself over a messy house," he went on, "but the doctor just confirmed it." A pause. "Jink, did you stop taking your meds?"

"Yes." No need to beat around the bush. "They weren't working, so I flushed 'em."

He rolled his eyes and sighed in exasperation. "Before or after I came back?"

"After I saw you in the woods," I said, "and before you tracked me down."

"Jink, you know how dangerous it is to go _without_ that stuff!" he snapped.

"I was hallucinating again," I said plainly. "I just figured if I had to take pills and hallucinate or _not_ take pills and hallucinate, I'd rather skip the pills."

He sagged against the chair. We were quiet for a long, long time.

I really didn't think he'd care whether or not I took my pills. It's not like lives hung in the . . . well, scratch that . . . it's not like _his_ life hung in the balance. And I didn't care if I was "living dangerously" by not taking my pills. I honestly didn't care. My meds were nothing to me.

"And I died, too," I added casually. I would have found a better way to break this, but like I said, I was on some pretty heavy painkillers.

"No you didn't," he said automatically.

"Yep. Pretty gnarly, too," I added. "Met up with Astaroth, met God . . . it was pretty crazy. Nice to be back among the living, I can say _that_ much."

"Did you really?" he asked skeptically.

"Believe it or not, yeah." I looked around the room. "Dude, how long have I been out?"

"The accident was two nights ago," he said.

"Sweet," I smiled. "Hey, let's go get something to eat. I'm starving." I started to sit up.

He lay a havy hand on my shoulder and made me lay back down. "I'll get someone to get you something."

"Nonsense." You heard me, I said nonsense. "I feel fine. I need to move or I'll go _insane . . ._ well, _more_ insane . . ." I tried to get up again.

"Well, you're not fine." Once again, I was forced back down.

"What do you mean?" What's going on here, folks? Did I miss something?

Wordlessly, he got up, walked to the other side of the bed, and pulled aside the blanket. I was going to chew him out for doing so – I mean, really, I'm in a freakin' hospital gown and that means no pants – but then I was shocked into silence.

My left leg was fine. Totally fine. Just a few scars from the line of duty. A few fading bruises the size of oranges, sure, but my definition of "fine" means that I still retain the limb – part of it, at least.

My right leg . . . well, let's just say I don't need to worry about shaving anymore. Or clipping toenails.

I covered my eyes with my hands, counted to ten, and looked again. Nothing had changed.

I reached down and waved my hand in the space where my right leg used to be.

"Oh," I said hoarsely.

"That's right," he said. "_Oh."_

* * *

**Hey hey folks! New update! Huzzah! AND JUST IN TIME FOR DECEMBER 24****TH****, TOO. OH YEAH.**

**Alright, so for the announcement/poll/question thing: I kind of want to play up the romance angle. First of all, are you guys okay with that? If you aren't, I'll keep it on the down-low. But I just have a few ideas . . . NOTHING GRAPHIC SO DON'T BE THAT WAY PLEASE. But if you guys **_**do**_** want something like that, I just ask that you bear with me – I'm kind of sucky when it comes to that department.**

**And Markey, my dear friend, I'd ask if you were ready to toss in your two cents, but you haven't been around lately to ask. So I'm to assume that you decided not to go through with it.**

**So . . . what do you guys think?**


	33. Just The Way I'm Not

**What's this? An "update"? I thought they were extinct!**

* * *

Chapter 33: Just The Way I'm Not

_Don't you know?  
Nothing's gonna change us.  
All because I like you just the way you aren't.  
And you like me just the way I'm not.  
_~All Time Low

* * *

My right leg now ended just above where my knee used to be. Used to be a leg. Now it was air. I rubbed a hand over my bandaged stump, and waited. Waited for that moment where I would break down and cry about how my life was never going to be the same. And I knew it, too. I'd probably end up in a wheelchair for a while (crutches if I beg, maybe), and I'll end up with a fake leg. Kate probably won't let me go in the field again. Ben won't ever let me _drive_ again. I'll be the butt of every pirate/IHOP joke this side of the Missouri. Every time someone would look at me, the first thing they'd see was my fake leg. I would never be taken all that serious again.

And I didn't care. I had air in my lungs. I had blood flowing through my veins. I could move. And I would walk again one day. One day damn soon, mind you. I wasn't going to be stuck on my ass forever.

"So?" I shrugged. "Just lost twenty pounds in less than a day. Someone call Jenny and tell her she's got some competition." I moved over to the edge of the bed, pushing down the metal sidebar so I could swing my leg down to the floor. "Hold still. I need someone to lean on."

He stepped out of my reach. "So you're . . . what?" he demanded, "High on morphine and shit?"

Huh. "I guess . . ." I said slowly, "but it's _more_ than that! I'm happy to be _alive!"_

"_Now,"_ he added. "You're happy with it _now._ But what about next week? Or next month? Next year? What do ya have to chop off next? What would Kate or Abe say?"

A sharp pain made my chest constrict, and I sagged. "I wouldn't know what Abe would say, Ben. He's dead."

His face fell, and I could swear I heard his brain go, "Wait, _what'd_ she say, bro?"

"He's dead?" he asked quietly.

I nodded. "Shot in the face. Several times. So _no,_ I wouldn't _know_ what he would say to me losing a leg." I set my foot down on the ground and crossed my arms, waiting for him to get closer so I could stand. "So forgive me for being happy that I _only_ lost a leg, and not my _life._" I motioned him closer. "Can I have a hand, please? An arm? A shoulder? _Something_ solid for me to lean on?"

That's when I figured out that I was being a bit of a bitch. I was still smarting from Abe's "death" (I conveniently left out the fact that Abe was actually in a coma from which he'd never wake, but I digress), but I was in the process of getting through it. This was the first he'd heard about it.

I reached over and managed to snatch his hand, and pulled him down next to me. I looped my arm through his and leaned on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry," I sighed. "Abe was a good man, and didn't deserve to go out the way he did. And don't worry, I kicked the ass of the man who was to blame."

We were silent for a long time after that. Have I mentioned how warm he is? He's like a freakin' space heater. I thought I was normal and all, and every time I touch his skin it feels like he's on fire or I'm just a freaking ice cube. I thought everyone was supposed to be the same – you know, like, ninety-eight degrees? Why is he so hot when I'm so cold? Is this just some sort of sign from the universe trying to tell me something? And if so, what is it telling me?

"You never answered my question," he said after the long silence. "You're fine _now,_ but what about next week? Or next month? Next year?"

"Well, then that means you're going to have to stick around and keep an eye on me," I said ruefully.

To that, he said nothing.

I was being selfish. He didn't want to stick around. Of course he didn't. If I were in his shoes, I wouldn't want to be stuck with me, either. Hot damn, with his good looks he could get some chick with actual curves (and two legs), not me and my stunted self. And really now, with how we clash, he'd be better off with a girl like that. Not me. I'm poison.

With an inaudible sigh, I pulled myself away from him, moved over a couple inches and crossed my arms to make up for the sudden lack of warmth. I wasn't going to push myself on him anymore. Deal's off. He could leave if he wanted to. I wasn't going to force him to stay. I wouldn't coerce him, or guilt-trip him, or anything. He could leave. And I wouldn't stop him.

He turned and gave me a funny look. I looked down at my foot. "D'you know if the nurses left me a wheelchair or something?" I asked quietly. "Or do I gotta sit here and wait for food?"

He kept just . . . _looking_ at me. In a way that was like, "The _hell_ is wrong with you?" And I don't know how I looked at him but I was trying not to. I just looked over for a second and then went back to looking at my lonely foot on the cold linoleum floor. This was going to make everything so difficult, but this was how it had to be. If he didn't want me, then I'd go. Er, he'd go – I'm not leaving my house, thank you very much. He could go. I wasn't going to stop him.

The next thing I know he's got his arm around my shoulders and is pulling me in closer.

And I swear to God my heart beat in triple time and I couldn't breathe.

That one gesture, as small as it appeared to be, proved to me everything I was doubting. Good Lord I could be an idiot sometimes.

Or it could be nothing but a lie. So I wouldn't act so moody or some shit like that. Or he was feeling guilty about something. Whatever. I'll take it. I could live with that. I guess.

But did I want to?

"Kid," he said quietly, "if I didn't want to be here, I'd be in Rio by now."

I gave a small chuckle, and let myself relax.

If there was ever a moment I would want to last forever, it was this one. For the longest time, my body was perfectly fine while something in me was broken. Now? I was happy, and whole on the inside, even if my body was broken beyond repair.

I could live with this.

Something nagged at the back of my mind. Something important.

"Did anyone ever find my phone?" I asked.

"Pieces," he shrugged.

I sighed. _"Fuck._ Do you know how bad Kate's going to maim me when I get back? I might just lose my other leg."

"Don't worry about it," he said. "I doubt she'll do anything to you."

"No, but Manning might," I mumbled. I thought that I had it, but I still felt like I was forgetting something . . . wait a second! I know!

"Did you find Jesse okay?" I asked quickly.

Silence. Hesitation. Just like the guy in the lab with Abe. I'm sick of people being scared to tell me shit.

"Yeah," he said finally, "we found her. She's here."

"Here? As in "in the hospital" here? Or "sitting in the cafeteria" here?"

"She's got hypothermia on top of mono."

Another silence. Finally, I manage to say, "When I get _out_ of this fucking _bed,_ I am going to _kill_ them. _All_ of them. In the most _painful way_ I can think of."

"Wouldn't blame you," he shrugged. "They do feel kinda bad though. So you might want to take that into consideration."

Leaning heavily on his arm, I managed to stand up and balance on one foot. "I'll take into consideration while I'm putting my foot up their asses. Let's go."

* * *

"I hate you."

"I know."

"I'm never talking to you again."

"I know."

"As soon as they give me my fake leg I'm kicking your ass."

"I know."

"And then I'm drinking all your good beer and destroying all your cigars you've got hidden in the house."

"Don't think so, Jink."

I pouted, arms crossed as I sunk as low as I could in the wheelchair. I felt so undignified, sitting in a wheelchair. I could've hopped. Or they could've gotten me crutches. But as soon as I started to stand up from the bed, a doctor burst in telling me that I couldn't walk yet. Asshole.

So here I am, being pushed in a wheelchair like a horrible cripple. (Note: yes, I _am_ aware that I am, in fact, horribly crippled, which is why I felt okay saying that.) I didn't even get to push it myself, because _apparently_ I'm not responsible to control myself on wheels anymore.

"D'you want anything to eat? Coffee?" Daimio asked. "The cafeteria's coffee is shit, but with enough sugar, it tastes alright."

"No. I want to grab the girls and get the fuck home."

"Not gonna happen today, kid. They say you're here at _least_ two more days."

I reacted by sinking lower in the wheel, down to as far as I could fall. I _hated_ this. People are staring at me and I _hate_ it. Don't they have places to be? Why do they have to stop and stare?

"Don't wanna stay here," I mumbled.

"That's too bad."

He made a sharp turn around a corner, nearly tipping the wheelchair. I unfolded my arms quickly to grab hold of the armrests so I wouldn't fall out.

"_Someone_ doesn't know how to drive," I grumbled.

"Better than you," he quipped. "_I_ didn't shove you off the road."

Touché.

The door to our immediate right was open, and I saw Jessi lying in bed while Zora lounged on the edge of the bed and Rayne lay sprawled in the chair.

"HOLY SHIT!" Zora shouted, jumping up and running over as I was wheeled into the room. "WHERE THE HELL IS YOUR LEG?"

I wasn't in the mood to deal with shit. I looked up (another disadvantage of being in a wheelchair) at Daimio and pointed outside. "You stand out there. I need to talk to 'em alone."

He raised an eyebrow. "You sure?"

"Totally."

He left, closing the door behind him.

I glared at the girls. They were starting at me with scared and worried looks.

"_WHAT. _THE _FUCK. _ IS _WRONG_ WITH YOU?" I shouted. "ARE YOU _HIGH?_ OR _ON_ SOMETHING? OR ARE YOU ALL JUST THAT FUCKING _IGNORANT?"_

Rayne sank lower into the chair. Jessi tried to pull up the blanket to hide underneath it. Zora pulled her knees up to her chest. But they stayed quiet.

"I MEAN IT!" I screamed. "HOW THE _FUCK_ DO YOU LET YOUR FRIEND – _YOUR FRIEND GODDAMMIT – _WALK TO THE HOSPITAL IN THE GODDAMN SNOW? OR _WALK_ TO THE HOSPITAL IN THE GODDAMN SNOW YOURSELF!"

I fell back in the wheelchair and sighed. "To be honest, guys," I said more quietly, "I don't know what's going on with all of you lately. I got sick kids, and _thievin'_ kids, and all of you are _coming home at God knows when _looking you got into a fight and _lost._"

Zora gave me a guilty look.

"Whatever is going on needs to _stop,"_ I ordered. "Or so help me I'll stop it myself with a well-placed bat to the face."

"Yes _Mom,"_ Rayne said sarcastically.

"Damn straight!" I snapped. "You're _my_ responsibility living under _my_ roof. Fuck _yes_ I'm your acting mother."

A young woman in surgical scrubs and a white coat carrying a clipboard opened the door and walked in. "Am I interrupting something?" she asked.

"A bit," I sighed, "But go on."

"Are you Jessi Anderson's guardian?"

"For the time being." I look over at Jessi. "So, mono, eh? Wanna tell me how that happened?"

She shrugged. "Must've drunk out of someone else's soda," she said.

I very much doubted this, but I haven't been home to say anything to anyone so who knew, right?

I looked over at the doctor. "Look, just tell me when I can grab my kid and go."

Pointing at Jessi, she said, "_She_ can leave tomorrow." Pointing at me, she said, "_You_ aren't leaving for a few days."

Well, damn.

* * *

**Hey guys! How's everyone doing? Everyone have a nice Valentine's Day? Yeah . . . .**

**Alright, my official apology: I AM SORRY. IT'S BEEN SO LONG SINCE AN UPDATE.**

**But my aunt died - ON VALENTINE'S DAY, OF ALL DAYS (_and no one listened to me when I told them it was evil)_ and my writing mojo just . . . died.**

**But I swear that a huge, long break won't happen with the next chapter.**

**Oh Lordy, guys, if only you knew what I had planned to go on . . . the scenes I've already written out . . . . they'd make you go WAAAAATTTTT #$%^$$%^&*!**

**Just something to look forward to . . . . .**

**~The Captain**


	34. Pardon Me

**A big thank-you hug to RubyDracoGirl for being an awesome reviewer! Thank you SO SO MUCH!**

* * *

Chapter 34: Pardon Me

_I'm a wreck and I know it  
And I tend__to show it every chance that I get.  
Butterflies in the skies they just fly on by__  
Yeah, they're making me sick.  
They don't flutter about  
I'd do without.  
All they do is kick.__  
_~He Is We

* * *

So, a few days later, I got my fake leg. Sounds fun right? (Not really, I know.) It wasn't all that fun at all. It was stupid and just a waste of my time. They could've been like, "Oh, here's a peg leg, go enjoy yourself and watch out for termites!" But they gotta _fit_ it and make it all _special_ for me.

Which, I guess, is pretty cool and all. It fit alright and I didn't fall over when I stood up.

(I'm sorry, but it was just one of those long, arduous processes that you have to go through even if you hate it.)

It had a cup-like piece that fit over the stump of my leg, and then a long rectangular piece of flexible metal bent in an "L"/foot shape that had as much bounce as a real foot. (Isn't that term weird? It makes me think that they tested this with severed feet and they dropped them to see how high they bounced.) Just beneath the cup-piece was a joint that now served as my "knee".

Of course, before I was allowed to go to town with it, I was given a list of rules – I had rubber sole pieces to wear in the snow, I couldn't sleep with it on, I had to dry it after running around in rain or snow or mud, I had to wash out the cup piece or it gets nasty, I had ointment for my stump, yadda yadda yadda.

Of course, it was paid for by my wonderful insurance from the Bureau. And _that_ little phone call could've gone _waaaaaay_ better.

* * *

"_What?"_

"_Kate?"_

"_. . . . __**Jink?**__ Is that you?"_

"_No. It's Johnny Depp and all my sexy glory."_

"_Jink, where the _hell_ are you?"_

"_Um . . . about that . . . I need my insurance information."_

"_Do I want to know?"_

"_I had a little . . . accident."_

"_How bad?"_

"_Um . . . well, I can say that I lost twenty-ish pounds in less than a day!"_

" _. . . . What?"_

"_I . . . er . . . lost . . . my leg?"_

_Silence. For the longest time. "You're kidding, right? This is a joke. You're at home, hungover, and you don't want to deal with work right now."_

"_Kate, this is not a joke. I for real lost my leg. And when I come back to work you'll see my new fake leg and then you'll be like, "Oh no! Whatever shall we do!" and I'll laugh at you."_

"_Really?"_

"_Well, I might not laugh, but that's close to what will happen."_

* * *

Yeah, that's about it.

So now I had me a fake leg to go thump around in. Aw yeah. Now I could totally be a pirate for Halloween this year.

But I had to get through my first day back at "work" first.

Even though it was cold, I wore a pair of cut-off shorts to show off my awesome new leg. I got quite a few stares from the normal agents, but I didn't care. I walked with an awkward gait that was more like a stagger than anything else. Man, if anyone saw me from a distance they'd think I was either a zombie or just plain drunk.

Kate saw me first. And when she did, she dropped the papers in her hands and stared at me, mouth agape. "I thought you were joking," she said quietly.

"Nope!" I said proudly. "No more leg!" I shook my fakey at her. "Isn't it cool?"

She looked at me, an incredulous look on her face.

"I know, I'm acting insane, right?" I grinned. "But I feel _fantastic._"

"Jink . . ." Kate said slowly, "don't get mad when I ask you this . . . but did you, um, _overdo_ it on the pain meds?"

"Nope!" I replied happily. "I'm just this . . . _happy_ now!" A pause. "Yeah, I don't know what to do with myself."

"What the hell _happened?"_ she demanded.

Huh. Mental debate on where to start – should I tell her about the voice reappearing? Daimio knows – hell, he even knows about the cutting. _That_ was fun discussion.

* * *

_With careful hands, he lifted up the sleeve of my hospital gown to reveal eight neat slices, in all stages of healing. _

"_When were you going to tell me about this?" he asked quietly._

_Honestly, I was never going to. I never wanted anyone to see them. I know what they remind him of, and for him to see evidence of my self-harm would hurt him in ways I'd never even imagined. _

"_I wasn't." A pause. "I'm sorry."_

"_What for?"_

"_I dunno. It just seemed like something to say."_

"_Sorry doesn't cut it, Jink. I thought you were past this."_

"_What _will_ cut it then?"_

"_I honestly don't know."_

* * *

"Car accident," I shrugged. "Got thrown off the interstate. Smashed my phone."

"Well, that sucks," Kate huffed, bending down to scoop up the papers she dropped. I bent down to help her, but she waved me back. "I had a mission for you, but if you're not up to it-"

"I can do it!" I said quickly. "But first . . . is Devon around anywhere?"

Kate gave me The Look.

"I wanted to apologize for kicking his ass," I shrugged. "Y'know, try to start fresh, maybe be the guy's friend . . ."

"We sent him to go get Fenix," Kate said. "He won't be back for a while."

"Oh." I don't know if I should be happy or if I should be sad. "Alright. What's the mission?"

"No, no, you can get to it tomorrow," Kate said. "Rest up a bit. Let me wrangle up a new phone for you. Go get some coffee or something."

I shrugged and walked towards the kitchen. Coffee actually sounded _really_ good.

On my way to the kitchen, I was getting all _sorts_ of fantastic stares. I couldn't go at that great of a pace, and I was still staggering like a zombie, but I was moving. Aw yeah.

The kitchen was practically empty – a person was leaning on the counter, drinking coffee was the only other person there. That was fine. Coffee was across the room.

I waltz over to the counter (hahahaha no I still zombie-stagger) and start to pour a cup of coffee.

"Glad to see you back."

So I _might_ have over-exaggerated my reaction – but I fell. I tried to turn real fast because I couldn't place who it was and I wasn't used to doing that on my new leg and I fell. My coffee got everywhere.

And oh hey, wouldn't ya know it, it's that one lady. Carthridge? Carmicheal?

"Cartwright!" I exclaimed, remembering her name.

She gave me nod. "Nice to see you're, uh, keeping yourself together."

I looked down at myself. I was on the floor covered in quickly-cooling coffee. She's making fun of me.

"Go fornicate with a horse," I growled, struggling to stand up. She came over and tried to help me, but I shoved her hands away. I clung to the counter to pull myself up. When I was finally on my feet, I glared at her. "Way to poke fun at the cripple."

She just shrugged. "Whatever. Try to be nice and you freak out. That's nice." She turned to leave.

"No, I'm _sorry,"_ I sighed. "I'm trying to be nice, I shouldn't have said that."

She raised an eyebrow at me (God how many times have people looked at me like that?). "O-kaaayyy . . ." she trailed off before leaving.

I sighed again and leaned back against the counter.

What was wrong with me? Why couldn't I make new friends?

Whatever. She's a bitch for making me waste my coffee.

* * *

That night, curled up in my bed at the Bureau, I couldn't sleep. I don't know why. This had been my room for most of my life, and now I found that I hated this bed, hated these walls. And I found myself . . . lonely.

Well, what the hell is this? I should be used to being by myself here. But _nooooooooo . . ._ a certain zombie/Jesus man ruined it. I hope he's happy.

I grabbed my cell phone.

~_Ben, u awake?_

His reply came within five minutes.

~**am now. whats wrong?**

~_I'm bored. and alone. and cant sleep._

**~thats it?**

_~tell me a story._

**~no**

_~please?_

**~no**

_~then just talk to me so i can sleep._

**~johann will get ya to sleep. find him.**

_~hes not you. meanie._

After a long moment, my phone rang. I answer it, a grin on my face. "Helloooooooo?"

"Kid, do you have _any_ idea how late it is?"

"Of course I do. Did you not hear me complaining about how I couldn't get to sleep?"

Silence. "What do you want, Jink?"

"Someone to talk to about shit."

"And you couldn't call one of the _girls?"_ he asked, exasperated. "They'll talk to ya until the cows come home!"

"You think I want _that?"_ I asked. "God, it's just . . . it's so _weird_ walking around here. I don't know people anymore. So I just thought . . . whatever. I know, you're tired, I'm bothering you. Good night."

I hung up and lay the phone on my bed. I thought that calling him would make me feel better, but all it did was make me feel worse. So now I'd get to fall asleep thinking I was a piece of crap. Man, I was gonna feel _sore_ in the morning.

But I had to try to sleep. I actually had a mission tomorrow, and if I didn't sleep then I'd _never_ get my shit done. So once again, I closed my eyes and tried to sleep.

Once again, my phone rang. Without opening my eyes, I grabbed it and answered, "Ben, do you have _any_ idea how late it is?"

"Of course I do," he quipped. "That's why I'm going to read you a _story."_

"A what now?" What? What the hypothetical hell was this?

"No, I found this . . . er, _poem_ on the internet and I figured you'd like it . . ."

Oh my God guys did you hear that? He looked _online._ For something to _read_ to me. Hell's bells, if I wasn't in total lurve before I sure as hell was now!

"Alright!" I said, trying to stifle my yawns. "I'm comfortable. Go for it!"

"'_Walk into my parlor,' said the spider to the fly . . ."_

* * *

**Raise your hand if you liked it! (Gah! Cavities from writing too sweetly!)**

**I know the song is a bit of a change from my usual thing, but a friend of mine and I were fooling around on Subeta (a pretty cool site, actually) and found it on someone's profile. I thought you guys might like it. 3**

**So happy days! (And review! Feedback is key! Pretty pretty please?)**

**~The Captain**


	35. Mess

Chapter 35: Mess

_I'm the best kind of mess!  
You know that it hurts so bad.  
I wish I could stop, but I'm so used to sad . . .  
Would you love me?  
Would you hold me?  
This wreck I am?  
_~Get Scared

* * *

To say that last night was the best night of sleep in my life would be an understatement. I slept like a _rock_ and it felt _good._ I honestly do not remember a morning where I woke up this rested and happy (where I wasn't put into a drug-induced sleep). It was beautiful.

Which led me into wondering how I could get Daimio to read me to sleep _every_ night.

I smiled to myself. _That_ was never going to happen. But there's always hoping, right?

Maybe I can record it the next time he does such a thing.

I sat up and moved to the edge of the bed. I didn't feel like putting on my fakey, but I left my nifty walking stick at home. So fake leg ahoy! Nothing could get me down today!

I was even (_mostly)_ alright when I realized that I'd have to cut off part of my jean leg in order to walk properly. Oh well. What works, right? And it's not like I can't _not_ do it – my leg wasn't growing back anytime soon. I wouldn't feel bad about it later.

And now I had all these useless right shoes, too. I can't donate 'em – who only needs a right shoe – which meant I either kept them, or threw them away. I could see my future-self surrounded by endless right shoes . . . . wow. Okay. Maybe there's another size-9 amputee that wants some right shoes. And I can take all their left ones.

I slipped a shoe on, and away I went. My walking today was a little bit better – less stagger, more swagger – but I still got stared at. Huh – guess they've never seen someone with a fake leg before. Of course, with the BPRD, it's either come back or don't – there's usually no in-between. (Well, yeah there is. Now that I think about it, Daimio came back missing pieces. And Johann is missing a body. Whatever. They must be staring out of awe of my awesomeness. I'd rather go with that.)

Before I went to find Kate, I stopped in the kitchen to get some Dr. Pepper. A few agents were milling about, whispering amongst each other, and they immediately fell silent. I shrugged – I didn't care. They could talk about me all they wanted to. I don't care what they think.

I opened the fridge. Milk. Coffee creamer. Some muffins. An empty container of Sunny Delight.

And no Dr. Pepper.

I started to get angry before I realized it. The lights above my head started to flicker, and I found that I was totally and completely ready to inflict some _major_ pain on someone.

I had to stop and think for a moment. What good did it do to get angry? It didn't solve anything. It didn't help anything whatsoever. All it did was make a mess, give me a headache, and scare the shit out of people I didn't know. I know I've already said that I don't care what they think, but it's easier to work with people who aren't scared of you. You can actually trust them to watch your back.

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. The lights stopped flickering. I reached in and grabbed a muffin. I could go forage (or pester Kate) for Dr. Pepper later.

I walked over to the counter and poured myself a cup of coffee. The few people still in the kitchen stared at me openly.

I took a monster bite of muffin and looked around at all of them. "What?" I asked through a mouthful of muffin. "Did I forget a shirt again?" I looked down. No, I'm wearing a shirt – it's blue. I look back around at everyone. "Look guys, I know I'm sexy, but it just can't happen."

Someone snickered. I decided to roll with it.

"I mean, we're from two different _worlds!"_ I exclaimed. I turn towards a younger-looking gentleman with black hair. "I mean, _you_ like hip hop, _I_ like rock! We simply weren't meant to be."

I move towards a blonde woman holding a cup of water. "I know, you're _crushed,"_ I sighed, putting a hand on her shoulder. "But it's _better_ this way. There's someone out there for you, and they'll be the _best thing ever."_

I take one step towards the door and look dramatically away. "Somehow, you must _go on without me!"_

I bowed and made my exit. I could've sworn that I heard laughter, but that could be my over-active imagination.

* * *

I found Kate in her office, going through paperwork of some sort. I sat down in an empty chair. "Anything cool happen while I was laid up?" I asked.

She gave a small jolt, but she recovered quickly. "Nothing," she said.

"You said you had a job for me?"

"Yes . . ." she trailed off, looking under a stack of folders. "We got another call from Mr. Bennet."

"The Scarlett-O'Hara House guy?" I clarified.

She nodded. "Apparently, he thinks there's a demon in the basement . . ." she looked at me with worry in her eyes. "Can you handle this?"

I know what she meant. I usually refused doing jobs with anything that could be a ghost or demon. (I've told you this already.) Usually, Kate understood this, and passed the job off to someone else. But since we were so short-handed, to do something like that right now would mean that the job would go undone. And that was a big no-no with the big-wigs at the UN.

"Sure," I shrugged. "But if he gives me sass, can I kick his ass?" (Look! I can make a rhyme!)

A thin smile. "Only a little."

* * *

I got myself comfortable on the little plane. The ride was a good forty-five minutes, and I had the new King book to play around with. Someone had left it on the seat. (And you all know there's nothing like Stephen King right before a gig. When I finally read _IT_ about a year ago, I have forever avoided sewers. Hate to think what my first job down there will be like.)

"Hey, Mis- uh, Jink!"

I looked up from the book, and low and behold, before me stood Sidney Leech. He was older than he was the last time I saw him, and he had a goatee growing in, but he still had those huge-ass glasses and wore those little leather gloves.

"Hey man!" I said, holding out a hand to shake. He took it gladly. "How you doing, Leech?"

"I'm doing alright," he said as he sat down. "And you?"

I held up my fakey. "I'm a bit of a mess at the moment," I shrugged and smiled broadly while adding, "But I'm the best kind of mess."

* * *

Once again, I stepped out of the van to look at the huge plantation-like house that looked like Tara from _Gone With the Wind._ Crazy ol' Mr. Bennet was sitting on the porch in a wicker chair, in a nice button-up shirt, jeans I could never afford (or even _wear_) and cowboy boots. Wow. Alright. This should be fun.

"You're back!" he said excitedly, standing up and bounding towards us. He started to say something else, but then paused, seeing that it was only me and Sidney. "Wait a second," he said, "Where's the other guy? The fish guy?"

My heart started to pound, and I had to stop myself from doing something stupid. Instead of hitting the guy, I shoved my hands deep in my pockets and looked at my feet.

"Shot," I managed to say. "He's a vegetable. Doctors say that he won't recover."

Silence rang out between us. I hope it's hitting him. I hope it's hitting him that what we do is a dangerous job – one of the most dangerous jobs a person can take – and no matter how special or different we may appear, we die as easily as anyone else.

I hope it hits him, and I hope it hits him _hard._

That's what people don't seem to get these days. We're living in dangerous times. It's been getting worse as years went on. Sure, we've been fighting these things for years, but that doesn't mean we have all the answers. We're not heroes, we're not the smartest people on the planet. We're anomalies who just happen to have the really big guns.

But whatever. I'm getting lost here, and I need a clear head to deal with this thing.

After the heavy silence, Lech spoke up. "Sir? Where's . . . um . . . the thing?"

I went from Depressed Mode to Work Mode. "Yeah," I added, "Can you even tell us what it is? Or is it just the 'flickering lights and creaky doors' mumbo-

"Oh, trust me," Bennet insisted, "It's a pretty big thing. It's in the basement."

* * *

Okay, this dude's basement was nicer than my entire house. The beige carpet was soft and plush, there was a TV that was the same size as my _couch,_ and there were two hallways that lead to five other rooms. A monster couch sat in front of the TV, flanked by a _really_ nice recliner. The centerpiece was the glass coffee table that had a painted Celtic cross on it.

This was the _basement. _I couldn't even imagine what the _rest_ of the house looked like.

"Damn, I wish I had this kind of money," I muttered to myself.

"Wouldn't it be nice?" Leech agreed. "No more fighting monsters, just lounging around on the couch and watching television. Wouldn't even have to make our own food or even leave the property."

"Dream life of the average American," I concluded. We were looking around in wonder instead of actually looking for this demon-thing that Bennet says is haunting his basement.

"Do you want me to tell you what's going on?" Bennet asked, oblivious to the fact that we were just blown away by his house.

"Uh, yeah, okay," I muttered. "That'd be nice." The beauty of this room was distracting. That La-Z-Boy armchair in the corner that was practically _purring_ my name.

"Well, there used to be a deepfreeze down here," he started, "And a few weeks ago we came down to put fresh food in it. I left it alone for all of five minutes, and when I came back all of the food was rotten."

Well, shit. That's a tell-tale sign of a demon.

"The usual things happen – lights flicker, people say they hear voices," Bennet went on, "And then this huge-ass red thing with horns appears and tells me I need to sacrifice _pancakes."_

I couldn't help it. I burst out laughing. It was just the most _hilarious_ thing I have ever heard. Really. I should be crying my eyes out and weeping at the thought that it might be Hellboy who's haunting this basement, but the very idea just makes me want to burst out laughing.

"Is there something _funny _about this to you?" he demanded.

"Yeah, actually!" I managed to get out between giggles. I took several deep breaths to calm myself down, and sighed heavily. "Okay, I think I actually know how to fix this, believe it or not." I shoot Leech a wink, and he smirks. Oh boy, this is gonna be _fun._ Even _he's_ smart enough to figure out the Hellboy-look-alike.

"What?" Bennet asked.

"You got a cook, right?" Bennet gave a nod. "Ask him to whip up a batch of buttermilk pancakes. Seven at least." I paused. "No, make it eight. The last one should have as much sugar and honey as possible, and ask 'em not to cook it in an iron skillet. With maple syrup, too. The _real_ shit, not the Aunt Jemimah crap."

Leech was struggling not to burst into laughter, and I could feel a guffaw or two fighting to be made known. But one more hint of a laugh, and Bennet would never go for the plan.

"_What?"_ he demanded incredulously.

"This thing wants pancakes, we'll give it pancakes," I shrugged. "Trust me on this, bro, I'm a professional."

Bennet looked like he was going to protest, but he gave in, and walked out of the basement. The moment that we knew he was gone, both Sidney and I burst out into wild cackles. We probably sounded like hyenas.

"Oh _god!"_ I was practically shouting. "Did you see his _face?"_

"That was _insane!"_ he laughed. "Do you really think he'll come back with pancakes?"

"I hope so!" I went over to the chair. It was a real nice chair, and I wish I had the room at home to get something this nice. "C'mon, we gotta move this stuff, and I can't move shit by myself anymore."

He came over without protest, and we moved the chair closer to the wall. "Why are we moving furniture?"

"We need as much space as possible, and we don't want to ruin this nice furniture. Pr'olly cost more than what we make in a month."

We moved aside the couch and stacked the coffee table on top of it.

I turned to Leech. "You got any markers on you? Possibly a Sharpie?" Sharpies rock, what are you talking about?

He searched his multitude of pockets and finally pulled out one that was hunter green. I shrugged off the color – it didn't really matter. Red was marginally better, but anything that stood out against the carpet would do.

I drew a giant circle – a good six or seven feet across – and filled it with a star. A pentagram. The middle was big enough for a plate of pancakes.

I then drew another circle – big enough for three people to stand in – and started drawing glyphs on the edge. Protection glyphs. The last thing I wanted was for something nasty to come through and eat us all. I hadn't used them in a while, but they always sat on the edge of my mind in case I ever needed to use them. This lady from Ireland – China Sorrows, I think her name was – taught them to me.

And once _she_ teaches you something, you make damn well sure you don't forget it. She'll _know._

"He is going to be _so_ pissed," Leech remarked.

"He can kiss my ass."

Bennet came down the stairs, a planet of pancakes in one hand and a small cup of what I was assuming was syrup in the other, and did indeed flip his shit. For a sec there, I thought his eyes were going to pop out of his head.

"Wha . . . wha . . . _what . . . ?"_ he stammered. I dashed forward and grabbed the pancakes and syrup.

"It'll wash off, don't worry," I scoffed. I placed the plate in the middle. Before I dumped the syrup, I took off the top pancake. This one was the sugary one that would call our guest. And with the abundance of sugar, this thing would call our buddy pretty fast.

"Everyone in the circle," I ordered. Leech was already standing in it, and Bennet stepped into it, his eyes never leaving his defaced carpet.

I stepped into the circle, and tore apart the pancake. "Okay, great Might-Be, whatever you are, show yourself. I've got the pancake you wanted."

The air grew colder, and it started to smell like something died. The lights started to dim. My heart started to pound. Ever since my first run-in with Astaroth, I balked at the idea of communicating with something from the Other Side. And then after my little side-trip to Hell . . . well, let's just say I know why you're not supposed to use a Ouija board. I struggled not to show my fear, but I could feel my hands start to shake.

"It's great," I went on, keeping my voice strong. "Got all the stuff you guys love. Sugar, and honey, and milk and shit . . . . yeah, it's a nice-ass pancake." My voice broke on the last word.

Something appeared in the corner; something small and grey.

"_THE HIGH LORD ANUNG UN RAMA ACKNOWLEDGES YOUR OFFERING,"_ it spoke in an old, creaky voice. _"BUT HE IS IN THE MIDDLE OF SOMETHING, AND CANNOT ACCEPT YOUR OFFERING AT THIS TIME."_

What? _What?_ Oh hell no. I did _not_ get my ass all the way down here to tell me I'm inconvenient. I'm sorry but fuck _that _noise.

"Come out here," I ordered hotly. "Got a pancake for you too, little guy. And you can take the pancakes to High Lord Might-Be."

There was a pause, and the small gray thing stepped forward. Its head was pointy, and its body looked like a generic Barbie-doll body. Two glittery black eyes glared at me. My breath caught in my throat, and I struggled to breathe for a second or two.

"Pamcake for me?" it squeaked.

"Yep, all over here," I motioned towards the broken pieces of pancake. Bennet was hyperventilating behind me, and Sidney was catching the thing on video. Yep, you can count on him for candid shots of everything. Lord, no wonder Manning doesn't like Youtube. I wonder how he'd act if he knew that Leech was the one who uploaded most of those videos.

The little gray thing chittered to itself as it went around and gathered up the pieces of pancake. It would have looked cute, if it weren't for the fact that it was a minor demon and had the power to kill us.

I crouched low to the ground. "Look, little guy, take those pancakes to your boss, and stay outta this basement, hm?"

It gave a nod, and grabbed the plate before disappearing in a wisp of smoke.

I turned to Bennet, whose mouth was just hanging open. "See? Problem solved. Ain't rocket science."

* * *

"Are you okay, Jink?"

I jumped a little and looked over at Leech. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Are you okay?"

I had to think about that for a moment. Hellboy was living it up in Hell, I had briefly visited my _own_ personal Hell not too long ago where I found out that Hellboy was in Hell, the world could end soon, and my stump was hurting.

No, I wasn't okay.

"I already told you," I said finally. "I'm a bit of a mess at the moment."

* * *

**OH HEY. I DIDN'T SEE YOU THAR. HOW Y'ALL DOIN'?**

**I know, I know, I've been gone a long, long time, but now I am BACK and ready to ROCK!**

**(And could you believe I've had the beginning of this story written for the past two months? Damn. I need to write faster.)**

**Anyways, enjoy!**

**~Me**


	36. Safe In The Dark

Chapter 36: Safe In The Dark

_Have you been up late nights?  
_**It is okay, it's just been hard to sleep.  
**_I see it in your eyes.  
_**It's just the work; it's been getting to me.  
**-Ludo

* * *

I tried to sleep once I got back to the Bureau and stripped myself of the fake leg, but you know how that is. I just laid there and stared at the wall. It couldn't wait to go home.

I sat up and stretched. I still had paperwork from the demon in Bennet's basement. Might as well get that done since I wasn't going to get any sleep any time soon. I hopped over to the desk and clicked on the lamp. The bright light blinded me for a moment, but my eyes adjusted to it. I wish I could do all this stuff in the dark and never have to go into the light again.

Oh Lord, how am I going to explain to Kate that whatever was haunting the guy's basement was connected to Hellboy? I don't even think I told her what I saw when I was dead yet. I wouldn't want to be the one to break it to her. From what people told me, she and Hellboy were pretty tight. Makes me wonder _how_ tight, and how his leaving affected her. He was like a dad to me, and leaving screwed me up pretty bad.

I understand how that goes, I guess. People you love just up and leaving and all. I'm not gonna _tell_ her that – Kate's no idiot, and she might put two and two together – but I understand. It's painful, and no one should have to go through that.

But she would want to know. For sure. I know for a fact that if I were her, I would want to know.

I finished filling out the paperwork – a nice, forty-five minute ordeal that ended with a cramped hand – and reached for my fakey. My stump had been aching and I forgot my ointment at home, but I didn't have my crutch with me in order to go without my fake foot.

God, this was so annoying. And my phantom foot itched. It's a psychological thing – your brain is so used to having a foot that even when it's gone it still creates signals for it so there's phantom pain and phantom itching.

I hobbled out of my room and made my way down to Kate's office. If there was ever anything you could trust that woman to do, it was to be up at all hours of the night. I don't even know when that lady sleeps.

Once I got to her door, I tried to open it and found it locked.

Okay, so Kate's not always up. Must be later than I thought.

I pushed the papers underneath her door. I'd talk to her later.

Right now, I was going to go home.

* * *

When I got home, it was like walking into a dream. The house was still clean, all the girls were asleep, and Daimio was sitting on the couch flipping through movie channels.

"Hey," he called, giving a small wave.

I dropped my backpack and keys, kicked off my shoes, and tossed off my jacket. I even thought about tearing off my fake leg while I was at it, but then I remembered, y'know, I couldn't walk that well without it.

So I kept it on and hobbled over to the couch and practically threw myself next to Ben. He didn't flinch, keeping his eyes on the TV as he put his arm around my shoulders and allowed me to lean on his side.

"How's it goin'?" he asked.

"I'm tired," I said, sighing. "And I'm happy to be home. You?"

He paused for a moment. "Yeah, I'm glad you're home too."

My face burned with blush. It was _far _too late in the evening for flattery. My brain was going to burst and I was going to die. Again.

"Girls were okay," he went on. "Stayed in, cleaned up the house real good. They went to bed a bit ago."

"What time is it?" I asked.

"Quarter past five. Why?"

I groaned and closed my eyes. "I haven't slept since yesterday."

Without missing a beat, he asked, "Should I be concerned?"

"It's nothing," I replied automatically. It's nothing that he needs to worry about right now. Or at all.

He gave me a gentle squeeze. "You know you can tell me. I won't rat you out to a shrink."

I gave a snort of laughter.

"I'm waiting, Jink."

I sighed and opened my eyes to look into his. "Well, first of all you should know that when I died, I went through this fucking nightmare where I saw how everyone died. I went through Abe's death again, I saw Roger die, and I saw Hellboy get drug to Hell."

He looked away from my eyes and focused on something across the room. He still felt responsible for Roger's death. I wish he wouldn't. I knew who was responsible for it, and I already fried that fucker's ass a couple times.

"What does that have to do with anything?" he finally asked.

"I worked a gig last night," I went on, "And there was a demon involved."

He knew my aversion to demons. Most everyone does. The fact that I actually went _though _it would surprise the hell out of nearly everyone. Hell, _I'm_ still surprised, and _I'm_ the one who went through with it.

"And the weird part was that when the guy described it . . . it sounded a lot like Hellboy," I finished. (Fuck _sounding_ like Hellboy, it _was_ Hellboy. The only person I was trying to kid was myself here.)

I didn't know if he would understand why I felt so bad about this. I barely knew why I felt so bad about this. It was more than just grieving for his death. It was the feeling of something deeply wrong.

Or maybe it was the feeling that you get when pretty much all of your family is dead.

Think about it. Hellboy left, and now he's dead-dead. Roger died. Liz's AWOL but probably dead. Greg's mentally AWOL and would have been a lot happier if I had just left him in the colony with all of his cockroach buddies. Abe is a vegetable and pretty much dead.

All that's left is me and Kate . . . . and Ben.

Everyone I had grown up with. Everyone I had made attachments to. Everyone I had loved as family. Just . . . gone.

I felt hollow. Like someone had pulled all my guts out and I was just waiting to be carved like a Halloween pumpkin. I was just an empty shell of a Jink.

"I'm sorry," he said, looking back at me.

"You don't need to be," I said thickly. "S'not your fault. You just asked, that's all."

We sat there for a while, not saying anything. I wish I could say that I enjoyed that silence, but my mind was busy twisting itself into insanity.

"I'm going to go to sleep," I said finally, unfolding myself from the couch and standing stiffly.

"Need any help?" he asked.

"Nah, I got it."

* * *

I woke from the nightmare with burning eyes and a churning stomach. I was going to be sick.

I fought at the covers to get out of bed, and still unused to only having one leg, I fell flat on my face. My fakey was lying in the corner where I had put it before trying to sleep.

I had to practically crawl to the bathroom. In my haste, I sort of . . . _forgot_ the bathroom that was connected directly to my bedroom. Hey, I've spent a total of, like, a week in this house. Pardon me for forgetting a few things.

I knew that Ben saw me, but I was in the bathroom and slammed the door too fast for him to come in and ask what was wrong – or God forbid, try to help me.

My throat burned as what little food I ate yesterday made an appearance. Tears left fiery tracks on my cheeks. I panted heavily between each heave. I felt like I was falling to pieces and there was nothing I could do about it.

I wasn't even thinking right. As if it were a defense mechanism, my mind had pulled out a soft, lyrical song that repeated on a never-ending loop.

_Hush little baby, don't you cry. Daddy's gonna sing you a lullaby. Everything's gonna be alright – the Lord's gonna answer your prayer tonight._

Song was so left-field I couldn't even remember the name of the guy who sang it. The song lyrics were like a shield around my poor psyche and refused to let me do any higher thinking besides, "Oh damn, did I miss the toilet?"

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of retching, my stomach was empty of everything. My insides felt pulverized, my throat felt torn to shreds, and my tear-burned cheeks were all-too sensitive to the touch. I wanted to laugh at the cruel irony. I thought that I was a mess earlier? Man, if I knew that I would be calling my future out, I woulda told the guy I was walking on sunshine. (Well, maybe not. I might've ended up actually walking on the sun or some weird shit like that. You never know with me.)

"_Jink?"_ I heard Ben call through the door. _"Everything alright in there?"_

I struggled to breathe. My nose was too stuffed to get much air through, and I was breathing in huge gasps. Hyperventilating.

The door flew open. My hands flew to my eyes to try to wipe the tears away; I didn't need him to see me like this. It's embarrassing enough that I just tossed my cookies because of a stupid dream, but now I was freaking out like . . . like a . . . Lord, like a kid. I was freaking out like I _wasn't_ an adult who dealt with this shit every day.

I felt him scrabble down to my level and his hands on my shoulders. "Jink, look at me." He shook my shoulders. "_Look_ at me, dammit!"

I moved my hands from my eyes slowly. I was starting to feel light-headed. I was still hyperventilating, and no matter how much I gasped I felt like I wasn't getting any air.

"Kid, you gotta calm down. You keep going like this, you're gonna pass out." He spoke quickly, and I struggled to keep up. "Breathe through your nose, out your mouth."

I tried to breathe through my nose, but a sob tore through my chest. No dice.

"Look, you can do it," he insisted. "Do it with me." He took a long breath through his nose and exhaled slowly. "See? Easy. You can do it. Just do it with me."

He did it over and over, and I did my best to try to copy him. Slowly but surely, I started being able to breathe again. Content with the fact that I was no longer hyperventilating, he did a quick search of the bathroom floor, pulling up a slightly damp towel.

"Now," he said, wiping my still-trickling tears away, "what the hell happened?"

It took a moment to get control of my words. "Ni-Nightmare," I stammered. "Really . . . r-really bad one."

"What about?" He set the towel down. His eyes bored holes into mine.

I hesitated.

"Just tell me, Jink. It can't hurt you anymore."

_You don't know that!,_ I wanted to shout, but didn't. "I was back at the Connecticut compound. Younger. Both legs. In my room, holding onto that old stuffed penguin. Stepped out into the _hall . . ."_ my voice broke.

"Go on."

"Everyone dead. Torn to pieces. Blood and chunks everywhere. Kate and Manning and you and Liz and Abe and Hellboy and just . . . _everyone._ And . . . . and _he_ stood in the middle of it all." I was starting to panic again; my chest felt like someone had their hand around my ribcage and was squeezing it.

"_Who?"_ he demanded.

"That . . . that _fucking asshole demon,"_ I managed to get out. "_That motherfucking asshole demon who won't leave me alone!"_

Silence. Horrible, horrible silence. "You mean that Astaroth clown?" he said at last. "I thought you _killed_ his ass _years_ ago."

I shook my head, struggling to keep my breathing normal. "You don't understand. When I . . . when I died, I was back in Mexico. Fucking _Mexico._" I stopped to take a deep breath. "_He_ was there . . . and . . . and . . ."

"And _what?"_

"He said . . ."

"_I'll always be here, Jink. In your heart. In your skin. In your head. You won't get rid of me this time. I _promise."

"He said that he'd never leave me alone," I finally said. "That he'd always . . . _be_ there."

Ben looked at me for a long, long time. I know that it's something stupid to freak out over, but . . . yeah. Whatever. I don't care. Everyone's got that one worst fear, and mine's slowly coming true. As the saying goes, excuse me for living.

"Look, Jink," he said finally, "Whatever it – _he_ – is, I won't let him get you. Alright? I'll protect you." He put his hands on my shoulders and gave me another gentler shake. "Are you hearing me? I've got your back. He isn't getting anywhere _near_ you."

I nodded, grabbing the smoldering towel (God dammit, this was one of the _good_ towels) and wiping my face (and namely my runny nose) with it.

"Are you feeling better now?"

I hesitated. Was I feeling better? Really? The actual dream was starting to fade – details were becoming a blur – but the feeling was still there. The acidic fear that ate at my stomach, and the panic that just now starting to loosen its grip on my heart.

_I'm alive,_ I reminded myself._ Some of them may be dead, but not everyone. I still have Kate, and Manning if I'm really that desperate. As for the others, there's no use into crying over them now. I just have to remember them as how they'd want to be remembered. For their lives, not their deaths._

"Yeah," I said at last. "Yeah, I'm fine now."

He hooked an arm around my waist and pulled me to my fee- er, foot. "Come sit down. Kids ain't up yet, and I bet you can find somethin' on the TV or somethin'."

Television? The last thing I wanted was to sit and do nothing and let my brain just go insane on its own.

But then again, TV was notorious for just . . . numbing a person up. It's like sleeping with your eyes open. I could handle that.

He led me over to the couch, only letting go of my waist to let me sit down. I sank into the sagging cushions, leaning against the back of the couch, and willed myself to relax. I was wound so tight, it was a wonder why I hadn't just . . . snapped. Broke. I should have just _exploded_ at that very moment, but I didn't.

"You just sit tight, alright?" he said. "I'll be right back." And with that, he disappeared back into the bathroom.

Was he . . . was he cleaning up after me? Legitimately cleaning _up_ after me? Jesus, that made me want to start crying all over again.

And then, as if on cue, my phone rang - the new one that Kate got for me, this lame twelve-buttoned number, not the old, nice one. Of course it rang now. Of _fucking_ course.

Well, joke's on whoever's calling, because my phone was all the way in my backpack, and I wasn't moving. Not now. Nope. I'm gonna sit tight, just like Ben told me to do, and maybe see what I could numb my mind with.

I groped the couch for the remote. When I started flipping through the channels, I realized what every other insomniac and early-riser had realized: there is absolutely _nothing on_ at . . . (I checked the cable box) . . . 6:45 in the morning.

I did a double-take. _I was asleep for less than a frickin' hour? Really? _Two words: BULL. SHIT.

I continued to flip through the channels as Ben came back out of the bathroom and sat down on the couch next to me. I let myself sag against his side, and let my mind wander.

_Why_ did that song pop into my head? I remember the guy who sang it – Toby something or other – and if my info was correct, he was exclusively Christian music. I had kept away from that genre like the plague since I was a preteen. (Trust me, after Mexico, I stopped believing there could be someone out there controlling our lives. New evidence suggests otherwise, hm?) If _anything_ was going to pop into my head, I would've put my bet on Breaking Benjamin, or MCR, or even Lynard Skinnard. No lie.

Couple this with meeting up with the ol' Guy up in the clouds, and there's one interesting enigma.

If I really wanted to put my faith into something like this, then the song could be a sign. (That's right, folks! Instead of speaking through tortillas and stuff, God speaks through music!) To stretch it further, the man – er, God – _did_ wish me luck _and_ sent me back to Earth.

It's like he's promising the same thing Ben did just minutes ago. _I've got your back._

My head was swimming. I wanted to numb myself up, not go all philosophical on myself.

"Did I hear your phone going off earlier?" Ben asked. He had taken the remote from my slack grip and started flipping through the channels himself.

"Yeah," I sighed. "I didn't get it."

"Why?"

"The only person that I honestly care to talk to at the moment is you, and you're not gonna call me on the phone if you're ten feet away."

Bam. Take that, mysterious-phone-caller. I don't _want_ to talk to you.

"What if it was something important?"

"It can wait until the sun comes up."

* * *

**Hey look! A wild update appears! And before a month passed!**

**So I see everyone enjoyed my wonderful pancake sacrifice . . . *evil cackle* so now I must say that no pancakes were harmed during the writing of this fanfic. (Actually, I did devour a couple of tacos . . . is that murder? I hope not. :D)**

**Man, you guys see the fantastic thing they've done? Where the stories should have covers? I might just do something with this . . . I am excite! Anyone got any ideas?**

**But anyways, I want to say thanks to all of my reviewers: RubyDracoGirl, MyNamesNotAlice, (my two regulars - you guys are great!) and ShadowWolfAlphaGirl (the newcomer!). I love seeing reviews, and you guys make my day. *spastic smile***

**In case anyone's wondering, that song that I used was "Irene" by tobyMac. Another song I listened to while writing this was "The Sea Is A Great Place To Think About The Future" by Los Campasinos! If you give it a listen, I warn you - it's not like anything I've used before. And it's very sad. My friend used this song to describe his mood one day, and when I really listened to the lyrics I got real worried for him. But everyone is alright now. 3**

**So how's everyone liking this new development, hm? ROMANCE. ALL OVER. IT'S LIKE BLOOD AT A MURDER SCENE - IT'S EVERYWHERE! THANK YOU FOR NOT GIVING UP ON MY LAME ROMANCE SKILLZ, SINCE THIS IS ALL FROM SECOND-HAND EXPERIENCE! (Cool Story Bro Time: I've never had a boyfriend, gone on a date, or even been kissed yet. YEP.)**

**So, everyone have a fantastic day! Keep up the reviews! WATCH OUT FOR DEMONS, THEY LOVE PANCAKES.**

**~Me**

**PS - HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!**


	37. Under A Paper Moon

Chapter 37: Under A Paper Moon

_Baby don't fret.  
At least we're alive.  
_~All Time Low

* * *

I spent the morning and early afternoon on the couch, either wedged up again Ben or sandwiched between all three of the girls. Once the girls found out why I was practically comatose on the couch, they whole-heartedly agreed when Ben suggested that I not be left alone for any length of time. I had a pretty good set-up, too: Rayne drug out everyone's blankets, so whoever was sharing the couch with me was guaranteed a warm spot in front of the TV. There were plenty of snacks for those who wanted them (which wasn't me – I could barely force down a bite). We watched movies, cartoons, random police dramas . . . It was nice.

I have to say, though, that it was actually really nice to have all these people concerned about me. It's something that a lot of people took for granted – myself included – and I promised myself that I would try to treat them as special as they were to me.

But honestly, I didn't think about that until later that afternoon. All that morning, all I was trying to do was just . . . be numb. I despised the feeling of fear that had sprouted up in my chest. I was going to douse that flame _real_ fast.

I started to feel a bit better in the afternoon. Not as good as healed, but better. Of course, that was when the _only_ road-bump in this whole thing happened. My phone rang again. I was stuck between Rayne and Zora, so Jessi obediently got up from her spot on the other side of Rayne to grab my backpack. I dug the phone of the pocket and answered, "Hello?"

"Jink, that you?" Kate demanded.

"No, it's Jimmy Hoffa!" I retorted.

"Sorry," she said, "I went to your room to wake you up and you weren't there so I called you, and I've been searching _everywhere_ for you . . . ."

"I came back to my place," I said. I tried to move up in my seat – the couch was trying to suction me in – and only managed to get up because Rayne gave me a nice shove. Looking around, I realized that Ben wasn't anywhere to be seen and I was trying to stand without assistance. "Had some . . . things to work out."

_Fuck._ Where the fuck did that man wander off to now?

Leaning on every available surface – couch, chair, wall, television – I managed to hobble to the front door. The girls gave me a look of, "Bro, what _are_ you _doing_?" but I shrugged it off. I didn't want to talk to Kate in front of them.

"What kind of stuff?" Kate asked.

I stepped outside, closing the front door behind me. It had to be nearly five in the afternoon, and the sun was hidden by clouds. It was starting to snow just a little bit. Its appearance made me want to smile – over the years, I had come to love the snow. It reminded me of the few places I had called home in my lifetime.

God, I wanted to tell her. I wanted to tell her about Hellboy _so bad._ It was like a disease eating away at my insides.

But I couldn't do it over the phone. That would just be _so_ wrong.

"Kate, we just need to talk," I sighed. "There are things that I need to tell you face-to-face that will just _kill_ you to hear over the phone. And there will be tissues and hot cocoa and promises of not killing the messenger."

She paused, and I watched the snowflings float down to the ground. I was starting to get cold, but I didn't care. Not one bit.

"Why don't you come back now?" she asked. "I was calling to let you know that there was a new job for us in Moscow and I wanted you to come, but we have to leave tomorrow."

"I'll be there tomorrow morning, but I can't come right now."

"Why?"

_Why not?_ "I . . . I had this . . . _really_ bad nightmare," I managed to say. "I'm in no position to do anything but try not to puke again at the moment."

"Oh." Another pause that allowed me to gaze at the flurries. "We're heading out at nine, so try to be here by eight so we can . . . talk, alright?"

"Okay Kate. I'll be there."

"Is it . . . what was your dream about, if it's okay to ask?" she asked carefully.

It was my turn to pause. Should I tell her? Of keep it my own dark little secret? Already told Ben – what would be wrong with telling her?

The thought of explaining it all to her was already making me tired. I didn't want to talk about it now.

"Tomorrow," I promised. "I'll explain everything."

We said out good-byes and hung up. My pajama pants lacking pockets, I kept my phone clenched in my hand as I crossed my arms. I didn't want to go in yet. After feeling the cool air on my skin, the idea of going back to the warmth suddenly seemed smothering.

No matter how much I wanted to numb myself up, I still couldn't shake that dream. If I tried to close my eyes to rest for a moment, Astaroth was standing there covered in my family's blood. In the silent loneliness of the woods, I could still smell the blood and hear him speaking to me. Just the very idea made my skin crawl and my stomach churn. It made me want to go try to scrub any trace of him off my skin, but I knew it would be futile. It was all in my head.

It was just hard to keep that in mind when I couldn't stop _seeing_ it all.

I was still standing outside when I saw a piece-of-shit blue Ford truck pull up in front of the house. It freaked me out a bit – the house was a bit of a ways from actual normal roads, so unless this person was well and truly lost he was here to do business with someone – but then Ben climbed out the driver's side door, a couple of plastic bags in his hands.

Huh. "When'd you get the truck?" I asked.

"After you trashed the car," he said. "Got a 501-T engine, and I got it for less than two grand," he added with pride.

"You know I don't speak car, right?" I smirked. "Is that good?"

"The engine _alone_ is worth more than that," he elaborated.

A beat of silence. "What's wrong with it?"

"Broken leaf springs in the rear, shitty gas mileage, and the inside door handle on the passenger side broke off."

I struggled not to laugh. "Sounds like fun."

"Well, I can get my hands on all the right parts, so it won't take long to fix it up," he shrugged, a faint smile still on his lips, and then turned serious. "Why are you outside without a coat? It's near freezing out here."

I held up my phone. "Kate called. I brought it out here."

He walked up to where I was standing. "Yeah? What did she need?"

I crossed my arms again and looked down at my bare feet. "Job in Russia. I have to leave in the morning for it."

"Oh." He stood facing me for a moment, then looked down at his own feet. "Alright then."

"I'm coming back," I said. "It's not forever."

"But will you _stop_ for a second and take a fucking _look_ at yourself?" he snapped, setting his bags on the ground. "I'm serious. Take _one good fucking look_ at yourself. Do you look like you're in _any_ condition to go halfway around the world? I mean, come _on!"_ He was shouting now, and I leaned back. "You're _missing_ a leg and still freaking out over the _last_ job you pulled! For God's sake, Jink, when are you going to stop? When you're _dead?"_

The silence that came after the shouting was deafening. And it got me thinking.

When _would _I stop? I mean, the man had a point – I was already a physical and emotional wreck. And yet I was going back for more. I was as bad as a person who would go back to abusive partners.

But I had a purpose. I couldn't handle the normal life, and I found people I could work with. (For the most part, anyways.) And I was getting paid a ton of money to do it. That's what kept me going – the idea that one day, I'd have enough money to take me to a nice, warm place and never have to deal with all this shit again.

"I will stop," I said at last, "when I have enough cash to get us _out_ of this joint."

Apparently, this must've been news to him, because he narrowed his eyes and demanded, "_What?"_

"I told you before I went back that this was temporary," I stated. "Go back for a couple years, get money, and I'm out."

I motioned him closer, and as soon as he came close enough I wrapped my arms around his waist. "Think about it," I said quietly, "Enough money for you and me to just disappear off the map for a while. Somewhere warm, somewhere secluded." I smirked as I added, "I'll invest in something skimpy that you can oogle your eyes off at, and attempt at getting a tan and you'll laugh because I'll just get spectacularly burnt."

He smiled, and I went on, "Or somewhere cold, like this, but _not here._ We'll spend our days playing in the snow and our nights in front of a roaring fire. We'll only leave the place to get food and never have to deal with idiot people again. Wouldn't it be nice?"

"What about the kids?" he asked.

"I don't give a fuck what they do," I replied. "They can get their own place by us or go their separate ways."

I knew that I couldn't leave Jessi behind – I promised her that I'd take care of her. The others could take their pick.

His hands found his way to my hips, and I moved my hands to his shoulders. I carefully leaned against him, and _by God_ he was warm.

"Promise you'll come back," he said. "I want to hear you say it."

I smirked. "I promise to come back in one piece," I said. "You feel better?"

He smirked back, and leaned closer. "_Much."_

Oh God. _Oh God. OH MY GOD. _

His lips touched mine, and as I melted into his arms all I could think was, _Finally!_

I couldn't even begin to describe it. It was just . . . _wow._ I don't know how good or bad I was doing – the first _and_ last time I kissed anyone was in the woods with _him_ – but in my opinion it was still fucking fantastic.

His arms tightened around my waist, making me lean on him more. I was already standing on tip-toe; any higher, and I'd end up falling or something. The thought was far away; I was more focused on the feeling of being wrapped up in his arms, the feel of his hands against my back . . .

Alright, you know what? Go away for a minute. This moment is _mine._

The door flung open, and Jessi stuck her head out. "_I don't give a fuck how romantic you think it is, don't stand outside and kiss in the snow!"_ she shouted. "_It's cliché, trashy, and you're gonna get sick!"_

We pulled apart long enough for me to tell her to piss off and shut the door.

* * *

**It finally happened! Nearly 40 chapters, and we finally get some concrete kissing action! Huzzah!**

**Hey dudes, I know it's been a while. I'm sorry about that. So sorry. Incredibly sorry. I've just . . . I got wrapped up in a ton of stuff. College and work and volunteering and Tumblr (oh for the love of god don't go on there please it will consume you) and stuff. **

**I'm going to do my best to keep up the story (promises, promises, I know) and hopefully it won't be months before the next update.**

**Peace, kids. Stay strong.**

**~Roni **


	38. Just An Author's Note

**This is just an author's note. Sorry, kids.**

So, it's been a while. (Fuck "a while," it's been more than a year since my last update.) I've been thinking about you guys a lot, and about how much of a jerk I am to just leave everyone hanging.

I didn't mean to ditch you guys. Swear to God. It's just . . . college got in the way. I've been so busy writing for my actual classes that I haven't had any time to just sit down and write things for myself. (That's a lie. I've been trying to work on a book. Now it's several books. I am bad at keeping to one thing.)

But I need to come clean with you guys. One of my main reasons that I'm not updating anymore is that . . . I just didn't have the need to like I did before.

Let the record show that when I was writing this story and _Electricity,_ I was in high school and _extremely_ suicidal. (I will not bore you with my lame attempts. As you can see, they didn't work.) For quite a while, you readers and this story were the only things that kept me alive. I worked on this obsessively. It was the one rope that tied me to living.

I'm not saying I'm 100% better now – these days, I'm sort of at the point where if I was crossing the street and a bus was coming, I wouldn't be in any rush to get out of the way. (Partially from my suicidal tendencies, partially because I'm a show-off and I'd want to be like "Yo fucker look at me, I'm walkin and you still can't hit me, whattup.") But the driving need for this story to keep me alive is no longer there.

But I'm not gonna abandon this story.

Let's be honest kids – this story kinda sucks. The writing's weak, there are plot holes, I've reread everything and it's just . . . bleh. I've gotten a lot better over the past few years, and I know that I can do something to give this story the justice it deserves.

I know that I'm not going to have the readership I've had before. I know that all the people that were reading _Welcome to the Masquerade_ all that time ago have probably moved on, and don't care much for this story anymore. But I still care about it. I still care about Jink and Daimio and all of my wonderful BPRD babies.

It's going to be a bit, still. Finals are coming, and I have four different papers to write on top of exams and video projects and other things, but I'm going to continue this story. I promise.

Even if it takes another four years, I will finish this story.

Do no lose faith in me.

If you want to reach me, or see where I'm more active now, my Tumblr URL is badbattersflippedshit, or I can pass along my e-mail to whoever wants it.

Goodspeed, dears.


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